


The Unseen, the Unsaid, and the Understood

by ImaginationCubed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, First Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginationCubed/pseuds/ImaginationCubed
Summary: Life was just an equation, an existence full of formulas. All James needed to do was put the right pieces together and everything would work as planned. Yeah, those pieces might not fit together easily, or even at all, but at the end of the day it was just what he had to do. After all, it wasn’t as if society was about to make exceptions for him specifically. Especially when that ill-fitting cog in the machine happened to be himself.So, of course Keith had to throw a wrench in the machine. It wasn’t easy playing a part he was never going to fit into, molding himself into the picture perfect son and student, but it was an unspoken agreement they all unwillingly signed when coming into the world, right? The one that required them to fit in at all costs, even at the sake of their individuality?But that meant nothing to Keith. He was able to pretend he wasn't the opposite of what the world wanted him to be, as if he was okay carving out his own personal path that no one else would use. Loneliness didn't perturb him, no. Though, it wasn't as if Keith cared for rules in the first place. Breaking some more was nothing new.This strange pull to keep being around Keith though? That was new.
Relationships: James Griffin/Keith (Voltron)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, to start, a big thanks to my pal [Allie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghiblitears/) for letting me blab endlessly about this AU to her. I don't know if I would've actually written it without her. So, if you'd go show her some support for her own writing that'd be lovely.
> 
> Also, another big thanks to [EcstaticAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EcstaticAce/) for always being such a wonderful person and betaing all my fics. I love you and you deserve the world. So, if anyone would like to support their writing too that'd be grand!
> 
> I'm super excited to finally get around to posting a chaptered Jaith fic, so I really hope people enjoy it.

Rubber tires skidded against asphalt as all members and objects in the vehicle were jolted forward. The driver in front expelled a string of profanities as he leaned out the window to examine the reason their travels were delayed. With a sigh, he leaned back into the seat, “You’d think people need to be able to drive to get a license, huh kid?”

James bounced his leg impatiently, stealing glances at his smart watch as he spoke absentmindedly, “Yeah.”

“What about you? You drive? Ever take dad’s car out?” The driver continued.

“Not really.” James replied, attempting to get a view of whatever was obstructing the road.

“Can’t drive yet?”

“I have a learner’s permit. Can’t have a car in the lot until I’m a senior anyway.” James tilted his watch face upwards again, glimpsing at it when the screen illuminated.

“Harsh of your folks to make you get an Uber to school. Busy people?” The driver pressed on the gas slightly as the traffic in front began to ease up.

James drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Mhm.” 

“Sucks. My folks were like that, ya know? My old man was never really around, always on tours. But, hey, I turned out alright. So, don’t get yourself worked up over it.” The driver turned a corner slowly as he kept up the conversation.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” James replied, taking another glance at his watch. Each minute ticked down, leaving him closer and closer to the start of his first class for the day. Of course it was the day that he missed the bus that he would get stuck in traffic. Not a day where he was sitting under the supervision of the bus driver for his section of town, providing him with the cushioning that he needed to have a plausible excuse for tardiness. No, he was sitting in an Uber with a driver he met ten minutes ago.

If it was his own fault, maybe he could’ve forgiven the world for his current misfortune, but no, of course it had to be outside forces making him late. Karma was really a bitch and not because she was biting him, but because she never seemed to deliver on her promises.

He spared another glance at his watch, watching the minutes tick away as he resigned himself to sitting in the mess on the road. Maybe he could make up some sort of excuse for his tardiness? He was a good student, his teachers were sure to believe him if he did. A lie couldn’t be that bad if it was about something as small as being late to class, right?

He shook the thought away. No, he couldn’t lie like that. He’d be pushing the limits of the teachers’ trust in him, and that was wrong. If he wanted to remain in their good graces, he had to also remain honest.

They’d understand, right? Everyone has off days. Sometimes, even the best of them sleep past their alarm.

Yeah, they had to understand.

The car pulled in front of the sidewalk next to the school. Did he really lose himself in his thoughts for that long?

“Here ya go, kid. Good luck. You’ll turn out fine.”

“Thanks.” James answered on autopilot, almost unaware of the words that were said to him. He slung his bag over his shoulder and set his feet into motion. One in front of the other, over and over as fast as possible.

He glanced at his watch again. He’d be on time if he didn’t stop at his locker. He just needed to make it to class immediately.

His hand gripped the doorframe as he used the leverage to swing around the corner and into the room, the bell sounding obnoxiously as his body hit the chair of his desk. Arrays of conversations quickly faded, dying alongside the signal of a beginning day as students around him exchanged notecards and binders full of looseleaf.

Oh shit. There was a test.

He shoved his hand into his backpack, fishing around for a pencil.

Of all days, of all fucking days.

James breathed a sigh as a paper was passed on his desk. He could do this. A rough morning didn’t have to show on his exam scores. He would do fine.

He needed to do more than fine. He didn’t have the leeway in this class to do otherwise. No more B test scores. He needed an A.

What if he didn’t get it? What if he got another B? Or even a C?

An unwelcome but familiar sensation came over him, creeping up his spine and wrapping strong hands around his throat, adding pressure little by little. He fought his hands to stay steady, failing without the added support of the desk in front of him.

He was going to be fine.

Harsh breathing escaped his nostrils, and by some miracle, didn’t insist to come out through his mouth in its attempt to run from the thundering in his chest.

He just had to get through this test, finish early, and take a trip to the bathroom to calm down. He was going to be fine.

An insolent ringtone entered the picture. Of course someone didn’t turn off their phone. Now he had to deal with the extra noise and—

One pair of eyes fell on him, then another, and another.

Did he do something? Did they know he was internally freaking out and dying in a mess of anxiety and adrenaline?

Breathe. He just had to breathe. It would go away.

“Griffin.”

He snapped his head up, eyes meeting hers by nothing short of a spurt of excellent luck.

She held out her hand expectantly, eyes never leaving his with a look that James could only assume was much more menacing in his brain than reality. Her voice came out with a sternness that he hadn’t heard used on him in a school setting in years, “Is there anything you want to give me?”

Oh. Oh shit. That was _his_ phone.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He could just give it to her, no mess, no fuss. She’d have to brush it off then, right? It wasn’t like he was a bad student. It was just a mistake. He’d never even touched his phone in a classroom before. She had to know that, right?

He shoved his hand into his backpack, switching the device off as quickly as possible and placing it into her hand without question while fighting for the steadiness of his hands.

“That’s detention.”

He choked, eyes wide and the hands around his throat only getting tighter. “Wait, what?”

“Two detentions is the punishment for having your phone on in class. You know that.” She stated matter-of-factly.

No. He couldn’t get detention. His parents would _never_ let it go. It’d be the blemish on his high school career. No matter how hard he tried after this moment, it would be nothing to his parents. All he would be is the kid who fucked up and got detention.

“No.” The words fell past his lips before his brain could stop them.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean ‘no’, James?”

Guess he was doing this. “I mean that I didn’t do anything wrong on purpose. It was an accident!”

“That doesn’t matter. Your phone went off during a _test_.”

“But I’m a good student!” He snapped, much to his own horror. But, of course, he always got like this when he felt this bad, though it was usually a show that his parents were unfortunate enough to witness. “I don’t need detention! Detention is for kids like… like _Keith_.”

Purple eyes flicked over to him, a bitter aura radiating from the action.

Okay, yeah, maybe that comment was uncalled for, but it didn’t get rid of any truth from the statement. Keith was notorious for finding new ways to stick his nose into trouble. It wasn’t an unknown fact.

If Keith didn’t want people saying those things about him, he needed to stop doing them.

It wasn’t like Keith was even trying either. James had given him every opportunity to join interactions in his social circles, or to even participate in something as small as school spirit, but Keith apparently was too good for any of that. No, Keith wasn’t interested in any of them at all. He would rather ride his stupid bike around and shoplift, or whatever it was he did when he was spotted around the town, than spend any time with his classmates.

Keith was a troublemaker at best, a future criminal at worst.

An unamused look crossed the teacher’s face, and a part of James most definitely died along with it. “See me after class.”

Fuck.

He fucked up.

He rose to his feet, legs carrying him out the door before he could process his own actions. Might as well die on this hill too. 

* * *

James let his feet carry him in circles outside of the classroom. A few pairs of eyes landed on him briefly as his peers weaved through the hallways and onto their next classes.

God, how he wished that was him right now.

His thumb and index finger met the cuff of his sleeve, rubbing the fabric between them. Just another minute. He could do this.

The classroom door swung open, leaving all who were waiting a good moment to see the student that had eaten up the rest of teacher’s time.

Keith.

Keith with his same old uncaring demeanor.

“Think about what I said, Keith.” The teacher called after Keith, only to be met with a roll of the eyes that she couldn’t see.

Keith straightened out his posture, head moving back to facing forward. Something about Keith’s fashion alone was enough to set off a minor annoyance in James. Maybe it was the torn skinny jeans that most definitely broke the dress code, or maybe it was the fact that, no matter what, the red flannel he often wore managed to be plagued with wrinkles, or possibly it was how he managed to even pull off the looks he did without drawing a million eyes towards himself. Either way, the mere aura that was attached to Keith was often enough to ward others away, so was anyone going to blame James if he didn’t want to deal with the way Keith insisted on breaking the rules of both school and society even with the clothing choices he made?

“You can come in, James.” The teacher informed with a quick wave beckoning him forward.

Tentatively, he listened, entering the room and stalking up to her desk as his brain attempted to bombard him with a million and a half “what ifs”. Pinching the skin of his hand, he assumed his spot next to his educator.

She sighed before letting out her first words, eyes cast down for a brief moment before moving back up to meet James’s. A sad smile found its way onto her face before she spoke, “Can you tell me why you’re here, James?”

He swallowed, as if it would cure the cause of the nerves slowly building under his skin. “I had my phone on during a test.”

She nodded. “And?”

“I…” His hand cupped the back of his neck as he broke eye contact. He forced the next few words out, “I guess, what I said about Keith wasn’t exactly nice?”

“Exactly.” She answered, “I’m more concerned about that than I am about the phone issue. I know you’re not the type of student to cheat on a test. But, I didn’t think you were the type who would say something like that about someone else either. I really think you owe Keith an apology.”

“I—” He stopped himself. Yeah, Keith _was_ in detention often, but that wasn’t exactly what his teacher wanted to hear him say. In fact, James knew it was the absolute opposite of that. For all the time he spent staying out of trouble, he did at least have the knowledge of how to please a teacher and tell them what they wanted to hear.

Swallowing his pride, he continued, “Yeah. I do. I’m sorry.”

“To Keith.” She replied.

“I will, I will.” He assured, nodding his head alongside his words.

She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, James.”

“So, um…” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, rocking back on the balls of his feet, “do I still have detention?”

She breathed out another sigh, placing the pen resting in-between her fingers onto her desk. “You’re usually keeping yourself out of trouble, so I’ll make a deal with you, okay?” Once he nodded, she continued, “We’re short a few students for peer tutoring. If you volunteer for it, I’ll give you your phone back without the detentions.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, no problem. I’ll come back after school then.”

“You’ll get your phone back after your first session.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks.” He gave her a wave and turned towards the door, exiting and pivoting out of sight.

Peer tutoring was better than detention. Exponentially better. Yeah, it still meant spending time after school that his parents would question him endlessly about, but at least he could brush it off as an idea he had to build his college applications. His dad might even like to hear that excuse, whether or not he bought it. Either way, he just got out of a whole night of being berated for a simple mistake that anyone else could make without everyone’s opinion of them changing and weaseled out of going back to reporting to his parents about every single thing he did outside the house. A couple weeks of peer tutoring would be fine.

He dodged a bullet.

* * *

Students filled the hallway almost before the bell finished ringing, if it could even really be counted as a bell since all it really was was an obnoxious noise that came out of the PA speakers and swarmed any open space they could, clogging up the atmosphere and making travel almost impossible. Weaving through the mass of his peers, he stopped his ambling in front of his locker. He reached out, setting his thumb and index finger on the black dial and turning it a few times before lifting it and popping the metal door open.

A hand pressed into the locker next to his. “So, I heard you had a run in with Ms. Harris this morning. Our golden student is falling into a path of darkness.” Nadia leaned her weight into her hand, bending her elbow and getting closer to James.

“Ha ha.” James said, rolling his eyes and oozing sarcasm. Kneeling down, he gently placed a textbook into his locker and exchanged it for another. “Should I remind you of how many run ins with the principal you’ve had?”

Nadia crossed her arms over her chest. “All I’m saying is that you never get in trouble.”

James placed a second textbook into his backpack and reached above his head for a binder filled to the brim with looseleaf. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“Yeah! So, like, what happened? Rumor says you yelled at Keith, you two got in a fight, and he punched you in the face.” Nadia bounced on the balls of her feet as she continued, “Please tell me it’s true!”

“What?!” He tensed at her update on the rumor mill, “Why do you always want me to get in trouble so badly?”

“Because you’re so uptight.” She threw her head back drastically at the word, “You should just have a little fun or something, you know? It’s good for you.”

“Yeah, good luck telling my dad that.”

“They’re _still_ up your ass about everything?”

“You thought they’d stop?” James asked, “Ever since my dad won the town election, he’s just been worse.”

“Ugh.” She huffed, “Anyway. Tell me. What happened in Harris’s class?”

“I got to class late and forgot to turn off my phone and didn’t have time to put it in my locker. So, naturally, it goes off during our test that I forgot to study for, because I was too busy with perfecting my lab report last night. My dad read it over and told me I didn’t try hard enough on it.” He zipped up his bag and pushed his locker closed, “You know, the usual.”

She leaned closer. “ _And?_ ”

“Harris gave me detention—”

“Detention. Our baby’s growing up.”

He rose to his feet and swung his bag over his right shoulder. “If you’d let me finish.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

“So, I did talk back, I guess,” He was not proud of that part, in retrospect, “But, I gave her my phone. So when I saw her after class, she said, as long as I volunteer as a peer tutor, she’d give me my phone back and wouldn’t write me up.”

“Wow.” Nadia exclaimed, elongating the ‘o’, “You really managed to get out of detention by being the teacher’s favorite?”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t listen to your teachers.” James retorted.

“Yeah, yeah, but even if I did, I bet you I couldn’t wiggle out of detention like that.” She waved her hand as she spoke, “So, do you know who you have to tutor? Or do they just give you some rando everyday?”

James shrugged as he gestured for her to turn and walk towards Ms. Harris’s room. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to go.”

“Did you tell your parents you’d be staying after school?” Nadia asked.

“No.” His eyes met the tiled hallway floor for a brief moment as the reality of the circumstance crossed his mind. There was nothing he could do about it now. There was no way to call home without requesting use of the school landlines and just that alone was enough of a tip off that something was amiss. He was better off taking his chances with no contact and then calling the moment he had his phone back and telling a lie about how he “forgot” to call home about staying after school to tutor and hoping that his parents found the excuse worthy enough. “I don’t get my phone back until I do at least one session.”

Nadia sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Oof, that’s rough.”

“Mhm.”

“You can use mine if you need.” She offered.

James dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s okay. That’d probably just make them suspicious anyway. Thanks though.”

Nadia stopped her travels in front of the door in question. Tilting her head towards the room, he peeked in through the glass, “Well, looks like you’re in for a treat.”

James quirked an eyebrow, stepping to stand beside her and discreetly join in her snooping. The classroom desks were pressed into pairs, and students sat quietly with open textbooks and binders sprawled across the surfaces as one spoke to the other about the problems they were facing.

Oh, it was one on one tutoring.

Some part of that actually made this seem better. He’d only have to focus on one person’s needs then, right?

“Well, I’ll see you later.” James gave her a quick wave as he reached for the door handle.

“See ya. Good luck.” Nadia turned to leave.

He pulled the door open. “Thanks.” Entering, he padded over toward the teacher’s desk and stood patiently as she wrapped up what she was explaining to another student.

After a few minutes, the student departed, and his teacher beckoned him over with a wave. Once he was a tad closer, she spoke, “Hi, James. Do you have any subjects you’re uncomfortable tutoring for?”

He shook his head. Yeah, there were subjects he was admittedly weaker in, but for him, weaker was the difference between an A or an A- on most days. Though, if he was being honest with himself, those marks were only from hours and hours of studying. It wasn’t as if he was actually understanding most of the information on the first round, even if it was starting to seem as if that was what people thought. It was a flattering presumption, but a small part of it did sting as his unprecedented hours of studying and practice went almost unacknowledged. Maintaining high marks was a series of turning down social events for late nights with textbooks and papers making a mess across his desk as he made damn sure that he knew every little piece of information that was discussed in class.

But, was he ever going to admit that? No. Sounding like he was naturally talented and intelligent was a much more favorable mass opinion, and one that aligned with the image that his parents were so determined to show to the outside world. Though, James was very close to replacing the word image with lie sometimes.

Ms. Harris gave him a smile. “Then you can just take any seat with a waiting student.”

He matched her aura with curl of his lips and turned to face the students waiting for assistance.

Each and every desk pair was occupied with a duo or completely vacant, leaving him to pick a random seat and wait out the minutes in silence until some struggling student eventually walked through the door. Settling in, he pulled out a few homework worksheets and his history textbook, blocking out the background noise of conversing students. Might as well start on it while he waited.

A body slid into the seat next to his with an annoyed huff.

He placed his worksheet in-between the pages and closed the hefty hardcover book. Glancing up, he looked the student over. He was clad in a red hoodie with the hood pulled as far over his face as possible as the potent smell of cigarette smoke wafted over to those around him. Black bangs poked out as he reached down next to him and moved back up, phone in hand.

No. He wasn’t just put in the position where he had to tutor _Keith_ , right? There was no way Keith even cared enough to show up.

“I don’t want to be here. I’m going to assume you aren’t exactly thrilled to be either, so I’m going to sit here for ten minutes and head out. We both get credit, you’re happy, I’m happy. Sound good?” Keith said, still failing to remove the hood from his head and propping his phone between his hoodie pocket and the underside of the desk.

Keith was not going to take James down with him. Not when he was already on thin ice for what happened this morning. The words came out a bit harsher than he intended, “No. Not good.”

“Okay, then what do _you_ suggest we do, poindexter?”

“I’m tutoring you as long as you’re here.” James said firmly.

Keith rolled his eyes, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He reached over into his bag, pulling out a few pieces of paper that were stapled together. Placing it onto the desk, Keith pressed his palm against it and moved his hand up and down, flattening it as best he could. Once he was done, he passed it over to James.

James took the papers into his hands, lifting them closer to his face.

Oh, it was last week’s algebra test.

He glanced it over, looking for the characteristic red markings and corrected answers. Turning the pages, he continued searching, finding himself with even less luck.

James furrowed his brows, letting his eyes spare a glance towards Keith before moving back to the task at hand. Was this really Keith’s test? Flipping the papers back to their starting position, he searched the page for the grade.

_Ninety-nine._

There was no way Keith, the same Keith who was never paying attention in class, scored a ninety-nine on his last exam. This was a joke. It had to be.

“Ha ha.” James started, sprinkling his false laugh with sarcasm, “Where’s your real test?”

Keith flashed him a fierce glare. “That _is_ my real test, dipshit.”

“Then why are you here? To be an ass?” James leaned his face on his hand.

“If you have below a C in a class you need to show up to tutoring or they call home.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to keep being an ass, or are you going to actually pretend you’re teaching me something?”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up.” James held his hand out for a brief moment. “How do you have a C? Is this the only one you aced?”

“No. Unlike what you seem to think about me, I’m not a complete slacker.”

Keith was actually smart? He actually got good grades?

“So you _do_ study.”

“No.” Keith said flatly.

“So, you just ace your tests without trying?” James asked incredulously.

Keith shrugged. “Math isn’t that hard for me.”

No. That wasn’t fair. James was working his ass off every single night, and Keith was out here getting amazing marks without even having to study? What the fuck!

Wait. Keith called math easy, and he still had under a C in the class? Something was wrong with this conversation.

“Okay, so if you’re acing your tests how do you have lower than a C?”

“That’s not your business.” Keith answered harshly.

“I’m supposed to be tutoring you. So, yeah, it kinda is.”

Keith turned his head away. “Let’s go back to my suggestion.”

“No. I told you I’m tutoring you.” James said firmly, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. He was going to be damned if he let himself get caught slacking after being given this opportunity. Keith was going to learn something by the end of this whether he liked it or not. “So, tell me what you want to work on."

“Find something on my test.” Keith sneered bitterly.

“Fine.” James huffed, “I will.”

“Good luck.”

He gave Keith a quick glare before snatching the test back into his hands, wrinkling the already abused paper. Keith missed one point, there had to be a reason. He was going to find it. Scrutinizing the test, he brought it closer to his face, there was something he was glancing over.

There is was.

James placed the test down on the desk, folded to expose the sole mistake. “We’re going to go over this question.”

“Wow. You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” Keith rolled his eyes. “It was a stupid fuck up.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re going to make sure you don’t make that mistake on the next test.” James read the question over, absorbing the information and giving himself ample time to understand.

This question was familiar. Really familiar.

He turned towards his bag, digging out his algebra textbook and binder. Plopping it all out onto the desk, he flipped through it until the page of his homework matched the one in the textbook. He followed the words in the book with his index finger as he read them.

They did at least twenty homework problems on this type of question. There was no way Keith would’ve gotten it wrong if he’d done the work.

Did Keith not do his homework that night?

Did he not do his homework _ever_? It would make sense. There was no way Keith’s average could tank that badly with good test scores unless something else was missing. Homework fit perfectly into that gap. It was definitely a large portion of their average in that course and had saved James from entering B territory on multiple occasions with less than favorable test scores.

“So, do you not do your homework?” James asked bluntly.

“So what if I don’t?” Keith turned his attention back to his phone.

“Well, it would explain why you got points off on this question.” And why his overall grade was tanking in the class.

“Well, I still got a ninety-nine, so is it really that big of a deal?”

“We’re going over it.”

Keith crossed his arms, leaning his weight on the desk. “Then show me how it’s done, pretty boy.”

Keith did not make it easy to be around.

He pulled out a blank piece of looseleaf and silently worked through the problem, then handed another blank piece to Keith and covered the preexisting work with his hand. “Okay, so start working out the problem, then tell me when you get stuck.”

Keith rolled his eyes yet again before complying and setting to work on the problem. A minute later he slid it over towards James.

He leaned forward, looking it over closely and comparing it with his own work.

Keith got the same part wrong.

James turned his attention towards Keith, pushing the two pieces of paper towards the other boy. With a blue pen, he circled the section Keith was misunderstanding on both their papers. “Okay, so you see here? You can’t balance an equation this way. If you do it this way though,” He gestured to his own paper, “You end up getting a completely different answer, because it’s the valid way to do it.”

Something flicked in Keith’s eyes for a moment, but it was gone before James could pick it apart. His voice came out softer, less harsh than before, though still managing to carry some of the same bitterness from earlier, “Oh, okay.”

“Yeah. Does that make sense?” James asked, attempting to avoid the earlier anger from being in his tone. If Keith was going to calm down, he might as well attempt to too.

Keith nodded.

A silence passed between them. Keith was right on one thing here, that this was definitely a forced session with a lack of goals to meet. Well, if they didn’t have anything else new to go over, James might as well give him a few other related problems to help the concept stick.

“Okay, so I’m going to give you a few more problems to solve to make sure it sticks.” James pushed his textbook over towards Keith, dropping another piece of loose leaf next to it. “Solve three, six, and nine. Then I’ll check them.”

“Why?” Keith looked at him, but still took the pencil into his hand. “I said I understood.”

“Yeah, but this will help make sure you remember.”

Keith didn’t reply, just moved his gaze back to the paper and began doing what he was instructed. Halfway through the second problem, he looked up again, “Why are you so concerned if I know this or not?”

“Because I’m here to tutor you. I need to make sure you know it.” James answered.

“Yeah, but I’ve been here a million times and no one even insisted on tutoring me. So, why do you of all people care if I learn?”

“Is it a crime for me to try and do what’s asked of me?”

“I don’t know. What does my opinion matter?” Keith said sarcastically, “I’m just the kid that belongs in detention, remember?”

Yikes. Okay, yeah, maybe he needed to apologize like the teacher said.

James inhaled deeply, then exhaled, steadying his thoughts before he dared to speak, “Look, I’m sorry. That was… that was wrong to say.”

Keith put down the pencil. “It’s whatever. You aren’t the first one to say something like that, and you’re not going to be the last. I’m over it.”

Was it really that common? Yeah, Keith made it hard to be around, very very hard at times, but was he really getting comments like that left and right? Did people really act like he was nothing?

Though, was James really any better? His comment today was definitely in line with how Keith was talking. Extremely in line.

Okay, maybe he was a lot more of an ass today than he was giving himself credit for. There were times where Keith truly deserved what comments came his way with the attitude he carried, but this morning, he genuinely was minding his own business.

“Look, I’ve got somewhere to be. So, I’m going to go.” Keith pushed himself up from the desk, taking his abused test and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Show the teacher the work or whatever you need to do to get credit. I don’t really care.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, just tell her I learned or something. Maybe they’ll stop making me come too.”

“I’ll um, I’ll let her know.” James replied.

Keith turned and exited the room. There was something about the sheer confidence he did it with that stuck out, as if he knew school punishments meant nothing, he could walk out at any moment, and all they would do was tell him to stay after, which he already had too.

He hated himself for it, but there was a part of him that longed to replicate it. The whole idea was such a foreign concept: walking out, disobeying, not caring at all about the opinions of authority. All of it was something he never dared to touch, even if he managed to watch it all happen right in front of him. While James sat here, hoping that his punishment would be officially overturned in favor of volunteer work, Keith left without a single hesitation. It seemed so freeing.

Envy pricked his mind, and he shook away the thought. He shouldn’t be jealous of Keith. He never wanted to be the rule-breaking type anyway. It was too much hassle.

Everyone had hypothetical wishes though, right?

* * *

By some unspoken miracle, his mother was still out by the time he made it home. Of all the days for his life to crumble, chance picked the right one. Maybe karma wasn’t that much of a bitch after all.

Though, the fact that he dodged the initial bullet of explaining his sudden absence to his mother wasn’t enough to promise him he was out of the woods yet. He still had more than his fair share of convincing to do with his parents if he was going to pull off the extended stay at tutoring he had to do now. Sneaking in was only challenge number one. Getting his parents to agree to a schedule change was the real issue at hand.

But, he could lie his way through it. It was a skill he wasn’t particularly proud to have, but it was one he had nonetheless. Ina always said it was his parents fault anyway. If you treated a kid like a criminal when they did anything at all, they were bound to learn how to lie to have any semblance of freedom, and her statement wasn’t wrong.

He pushed the rice on his plate around with his fork. Finding the right words to approach his parents with for any topic always had a habit of killing his appetite. Even when it was for something as small as going to Ryan’s house to work on a school project, there was always the possibility that the conversation would end in fire. Or with James letting his nerves get the best of him like a pair of hands around his throat. That one was seeming to be more and more common as he got older unfortunately.

There wasn’t much of a choice to be had this time though. It was either bring this up, or end up with them getting a call reporting his inadvertent rule breaking earlier that morning.

He took a deep breath and started the conversation, bracing himself for the verbal backlash, “So, I, um, I signed up to be a peer tutor at school.” Brown eyes flicked down towards his meal again, then back up, “I thought it would help make my college apps stronger.” A moment passed and James continued, “You want me to get into Rice, right? I need to put some more activities on my application, since you wanted me to quit baseball.”

Great, he was already fucking this up.

He needed to shut up.

Silence was excruciating.

James opened his mouth, ready to speak again before he mentally scolded himself again and resigned himself to the painful silence. In reality, it couldn’t of been _that_ long in-between their words, but each and every second seemed like a minute all on its own when he awaited the inevitable criticism of his parents.

“Okay.” His father turned to his mother, “Are you about to pick him up?”

His mother shook her head. “I have meetings with your election campaign team and the church most days now.”

“I can bike home, it’s fine.” James interjected. If this was ruined by the fact he didn’t have a ride of all things, he was officially done.

“It’s too far. You’d be wasting a ton of time that you could be studying.” His father scrutinized.

“Not everything has to be about school.” James mumbled under his breath before taking another bite of his dinner.

His father eyed him suspiciously, but favored his food over confrontation.

James sighed defeatedly, “I could have Ryan drive me home. It ends around the same time as art and photography club.”

“Oh, Mrs. Kinkade is a lovely women. I’d be fine with that.” His mother replied with a smile.

“Will you be back home before four thirty?” His father asked.

“I, uh, yeah I should be?”

“Then if you can get a ride home from one of your friends, you can be a tutor.”

James’s lips curled into a smile. “Thanks.”

Now, he just needed to get through a few weeks of tutoring. And a few of being stuck after school with Keith.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day of classes, another day of tutoring.
> 
> Somehow, James couldn't have a normal day, could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super excited to be back with another chapter. So I hope everyone enjoys, but before we begin I just wanted to add a note that there is a scene with bullying where the reason is implied to be homophobia. So just a heads up for anyone who'd like to know about that before hand.

James let out a yawn, lifting a hand in front of his open mouth to block it politely. At this point, he was almost absolutely sure that the bags under his eyes were essentially tattooed there, and that his constant sleep deprivation in favor of his classes and the immense amount of work that came with them at times was going to have some horrid effect on his health. Not that his parents would particularly care unless it was something visible though. As long as he could smile, nod, and manage to get an acceptance into Rice, he was fine in their eyes.

Ms. Sanda droned on at the front of the room as her lecture became less and less interesting the further back it traveled. James had originally attempted to get a seat in the front of her class for this very reason, but by the time he made it in from his class across the building to this one, the whole front row was taken. The multitude of multicolored chalk diagrams didn’t have a chance compared to her monotone information delivery, especially when James wasn’t in the front anymore, and he had a feeling some of his more involved classmates knew this when they selected their seats.

His desk squeaked under him as he shifted his sitting position slightly. How old were these things? Yeah, their school was small, but it couldn’t be so small that it couldn’t afford new essentials once in a while.

He’d have to talk to his dad about sending more funding to the school budget.

His peers seemed to have just as much difficulty keeping their focus on the lecture as he did. Students all over faded quickly, some zoning out or even going as far as sleeping and some finding another more active way to pretend they were attentive and taking notes. If James wasn’t so incredibly dedicated to being the perfect student, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t be doing the same.

No wonder they all called him a teacher’s pet. Being the only one pushing himself to listen to such a boring lecture didn’t exactly help his case with that one.

His eyes fell on Keith. The other boy was scribbling something into a notebook, though there was a high amount of doubt in James’s brain that whatever it was was actually school related. Did Keith not care? Or did he have some weird talent for absorbing the content of a lecture without truly paying attention?

Either way, it wasn’t as if James was involved in whatever Keith was doing with his life. He could drop out for all James cared. It wouldn’t affect him. Besides, there was a test coming up in a few days. He had to focus on himself and his own education.

Was Keith going to ace this one too, or was that some mysterious power that he only had in his math classes?

James pushed the thought away. He had to focus. Keith’s intentions and future weren’t his business anyway.

Keith tilted the angle of his notebook, inspecting the page and returning his pencil to the paper. He flipped the pencil in his hand to use the eraser briefly and returned to his previous actions. Moments later, a small pout entered his face as he scrutinized whatever was on the page.

Okay, James was a liar if he didn’t admit that look was kinda cute.

No. He had to focus. Why couldn’t he just focus?

Damn Keith for being so easy to look at.

The bell interrupted his train of thought, promptly ending Sanda’s dragging lecture.

James glanced down at his notebook, eyes meeting scattered notes. The chicken scratch along the printed lines was missing large sections, and the notes trailed off halfway through what he remembered hearing from his teacher. He silently scolded himself and accepted his fate of humiliatingly admitting that he managed to zone out during the lecture just like everyone else. In retrospect, the mere action of zoning out during a class wasn’t an uncommon one in high school, but on him personally, it wasn’t exactly a good look. Especially when he knew he’d need to find someone who magically made it through the lecture _and_ took notes the whole time to supplement his own shortcomings.

He needed to stop bothering with Keith and his choices. It was bringing him nothing but misfortune at the moment.

Closing the notebook, he stuffed it back into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. A voice drawled on in the background though the loudspeakers, though he’d become surprisingly good at tuning others out in the last year or so.

He could blame his parents for that one.

Please them now, get to college, then finally relax. That was the game plan. It wasn’t the easiest or even the most favorable one, but it was the one that was going to keep things from blowing over while he still lived under their roof.

All he needed to do was hope that burn out didn’t sink its claws into him before he got his college acceptance.

And that he also did get into Rice. Though, he wasn’t particularly ready to cross the bridge of possibly not getting in yet.

He made a mental checklist of his needed items and exited the classroom in favor of Harris’s room. There wasn’t an exact amount of time James agreed to work as a peer tutor, but as of right now, he decided running on the assumption that Ms. Harris was expecting at least a few consecutive weeks out of him was his best course of action.

After popping Ryan a text to ask him when his mother would be picking them up, he pushed the door to Ms. Harris’s room open. She was nowhere to be found, though students still sat in paired desks quietly discussing their work despite her lack of presence.

He scanned the duos in the room, searching for a lone student to share his knowledge with. A part of him hoped that arriving early this time was going to end up with him having favorable options for tutorees, but all it seemed to leave him with was the option to sit on his own and wait for one of his peers to approach him instead.

Taking a seat, he pulled out his own work and tuned out the outside conversation. If he got a little bit of it done now, maybe he could afford a short nap before he continued it at home.

The door to the room opened and closed again, drawing James’s attention from his work. Despite having his head ducked down to glance at his phone, Keith was instantly recognizable.

He’d probably be tutoring him again today.

Keith padded past the front row, then the second, then turned right and took an empty pair of desks for himself.

Did Keith really hate him that much after the other day? Was he not even going to take up the only empty seat with a tutor to avoid him?

Was James really that unpleasant to even be around?

Keith pulled out a notebook, probably the same one from earlier, and a mechanical pencil, propping it up against the edge of the desk and his stomach.

So, it definitely wasn’t work that Keith was doing earlier.

Why was Keith so opposed to doing his work anyway? Didn’t he know that if he just started following directions, he wouldn’t have to be staying here after school?

A student stood from his desk behind Keith, using his hand as leverage. Striding down the aisle that separated each duo, he swung out his hand and aggressively pushed it into Keith’s focused arm. A snicker escaped him as he turned his head to watch Keith furiously erase whatever mark he was just forced to make on his paper. When Keith elected to ignore him, he rolled his eyes and continued his travels out of the room.

The student that now sat alone reached over, hooking his fingers around the strap to Keith’s bag and pulling it closer. Once it was under the closest desk, he removed the contents from Keith’s bag and flipped the item inside out. Taking a moment to go through the contents of the large multi-subject binder that James assumed took up most of Keith’s bag, the student pulled out a red pen and scribbled something large across some of the pages before closing it and putting it back inside. Zipping up the bag, he slid it back over towards Keith and kept a watchful eye on the boy in question.

The same student from earlier reentered the classroom, pulling the same move from earlier and practically shoving Keith’s arm as he attempted to do whatever it was that he was doing in his notebook.

Keith’s pencil skidded across the page, and he tossed it to the side. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You.” The student said, pushing Keith’s head as he walked past him to take a seat.

Keith rolled his eyes with a huff, leaning down to retrieve his pencil. Halfway through the action, he froze, eyes locked on his violated backpack. Slamming his notebook down on his desk with a _thwap_ , he sprung to his feet and stepped towards them. “How many times do I need to tell you to leave me the fuck alone?!”

The duo snickered in unison, occasionally pointing as if Keith himself wasn’t standing in front of them, rightfully angry.

Keith slapped his hand on the desk closest to him. “Well? Do you have something to say to me? No? Then leave me the fuck alone.”

The taller of the two smirked obnoxiously, as if he was attempting to escalate the situation further with that alone. “Make us.”

Keith huffed, rolling his eyes and turning around to retake his seat.

The shorter of the two reached out, thrusting his palm into Keith’s back, laughing once he fell against the desk next to him.

Keith pushed himself up with both hands, whipping around and swiping his arm across both of the occupied desks. The sound of books and binders falling to the floor was accompanied only by the silence of other onlooking students and the opening and closing of the door to the classroom.

The taller of the duo shot up, raising his hand alongside his sudden shift to his feet. “Ms. Harris, Keith just pushed all my stuff off my desk.”

The sigh that escaped her didn’t sound exhausted or as if she was trying to keep up with the demands of teaching, but as if she was tired from the same monotonous occurrence. “Keith, principal’s office.” She said without missing a beat.

Keith’s hands balled into fist briefly before he irately slammed his bag onto his desk and attempted to undo the trickery of an inside out zipper. Furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips decorated Keith’s face as he dumped out the contents of his bag and shoved them back in the correct way.

This was wrong. Yeah, Keith did shove a ton of things off a desk, but it wasn’t as if the reaction wasn’t justified. And if he was going to get in trouble for it still, it was only fair that the other two students served their time as well, right?

But, what if he had to go through a process with the principal too for saying something? What if they said something to his parents? Even if it was for something positive, he’d never actually managed to land himself there in the first place. Something about the idea of it was still anxiety-inducing.

Though, would it really be that bad if his parents heard he got sent to the principal’s office for something positive? Hearing that his child stood up against something like bullying was the perfect thing for his father’s campaign too. It fed perfectly into the image he was always trying desperately to uphold, even if that statement was a bit of a stretch. It wasn’t like he really stood up and stopped anything in the middle of the issue. All he did was play damage control in the end.

“Actually,” James rose his hand as he spoke, “Both of them were provoking Keith on purpose.”

She blinked, then turned towards Keith, “Is that true?”

Keith glanced down, eyes staying on his bag for a moment before he finally looked back up at her. He nodded.

Ms. Harris turned to the boys in question. “To the office.”

“We can’t even defend ourselves?!” One of them exclaimed.

“James wouldn’t gain anything from lying right now.” She said firmly, “I want you both to go to the office.”

The duo rose from their seats, gathering their scattered materials and putting them into their backpacks before slinging them over their shoulders. The taller of the two flashed a glare in James’s direction, his eyes meeting James’s with an uncomfortable intensity. As he made his exit, the shorter of the two spoke, barely above a whisper, though it was obvious the comment was meant for him.

“Watch your back, Griffin.”

He drummed his fingers against the desk. Were they serious? Did he just invite the harassment Keith was getting onto himself?

Though, even if he did, he could take some solace in the fact that Keith wasn’t about to get punished for something he wasn’t fully at fault for.

Maybe he should join him. Keith needed a tutor anyway.

Scooping up his materials, he shuffled over to the vacant desk next to Keith and plopped them down. Taking the seat, he flipped his textbook back open. “So, what do you need help with?”

Keith ducked his head away, blocking any view of his notebook with his arm.

He didn’t need to push Keith. They could pretend they were both working today. In all fairness, James couldn’t say he would really want to focus on learning something new after dealing with a duo of assholes either.

He picked up his pencil and returned to work. Keith could talk to him if he wanted to. But, he might as well get some work done in the very likely event Keith didn’t make a peep for the rest of the afternoon.

Dragging the eraser end of his pencil across the page, James followed each and every printed line, absorbing the material presented to him. Glancing over certain lines, he flipped the object in his hands and recorded a few key facts onto the loose leaf paper beside him. He loved Mrs. Holt, but her enthusiasm when it came to botany was starting to take large swatches of time out of his already packed day with the amount of readings she assigned for it.

“Why did you do that?”

James snapped his head up. “Huh?”

“Why did you stand up for me?” Keith asked, mechanical pencil stopping mid stroke, his voice barely raising past a whisper. He kept his eyes focused on his paper as if he was already preparing to end the conversation as soon as it started, knowing that the answer he was about to receive could be almost anything at all. And, that fact alone was already putting himself out there further than he liked.

James placed his pencil down onto his textbook. “Because that wasn’t fair. You shouldn’t get in trouble, because they were picking on you.”

“Why do you care?” There was an unexpected harshness to Keith’s tone. Though, James couldn’t blame him. Just a few days earlier, he too had made a comment at Keith’s expense. If he was Keith, he wouldn’t trust him either.

“Because you shouldn’t get in trouble for sticking up for yourself. Especially if they’re getting off scot-free.” James repeated. He turned his head to face Keith, even if the other boy still refused to look at him. “I get you have your opinion of me, but I’m not trying to pull anything weird, okay?”

A moment of silence passed between them, neither daring to make any jarring movements or to release any words. If Keith didn’t believe him, there wasn’t much James could do about that. If his own parents didn’t believe him half the time, what hope did he have to convince someone like Keith any different if he chose to see James that way?

Keith reached down beside him, rustling around in his bag before dropping the same large binder from earlier onto the desk. Flipping it open, he turned his head to the side to pick a color tab before grabbing a chunk of pages and shoving them to the side. “Can you look over my worksheet from history?”

Was Keith seriously suggesting that they genuinely work?

“Uh, yeah, sure?” He closed the textbook in front of him, using his loose leaf paper as a bookmark, and placed it on the floor. Wrapping his fingers around the hard plastic, he drug the binder to his side of the desk. Something about Keith keeping all his papers in a three-ring binder seemed so off. He one-hundred percent had Keith pegged as the shove all his papers into his backpack once he gets them type. Though in retrospect, making that assumption was a tad unfair, since James had witnessed Keith with notebooks several times.

Glancing over the filled in blanks of Keith’s worksheet, he attempted to search for wrong or missing answers. When his search turned up empty, he flipped the page and prepared to look over the back side of the sheet. If this was going to line up with the past session he had with Keith, there wouldn’t be anything wrong at all. Though, the possibility that Keith was giving James busy work had a little bit of sweetness to it. Almost as if it was Keith’s own way of indulging him as a small thanks for his previous actions. Tapping the end of his pen against the paper, he continued, despite the high chances it would end up without James finding a single mistake. His eyes absentmindedly moved to the next page, original intentions falling to the wayside as he began to inspect other parts of Keith’s work.

He froze. The next sheet stared at him viciously, horridly defaced with large venomous letters spelling out a violent word James didn’t feel comfortable repeating.

Is this what that kid was writing all over Keith’s papers? Is this what he laughed about after?

He felt sick.

Keith’s eyes flicked over towards James and away from what was most obviously his phone in his pocket. “What?” He slipped the device back into place and leaned over closer to James, gaze first meeting the original page he handed James to correct, then eventually dropping to the paper in question.

Keith yanked the binder from James’s slack hold. He furiously flipped through the rest of the pages of his notes, giving James accidental and unfortunate views of the choice words that vandalized select pages.

He slammed the binder closed. “I need to go.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know.” Keith snapped, shoving the contents on his desk into his backpack without care. He slung it over his right shoulder and exited the room before James could contest, letting the door shut loudly behind him. A few heads peaked up, searching for the source of the noise before ducking back down to resume their activities, leaving James the sole one staring at the scene that had just unfolded.

Worst of all, something told him those two boys were only going to get a slap on the wrist.

* * *

James tapped the eraser end of his pencil rhythmically against the crinkled pages of his textbook. If he didn’t know any better, he’d be inclined to believe that the yearly sign out pages were forged and that the book was from last century. How some students treated their materials would always astound him.

He focused his eyes back onto the lines that taunted him. No matter how many times he forced himself to read over the same paragraph, his brain refused to absorb any of the information presented to him. It was important and needed to be recorded before he could sleep tonight, but apparently, his brain didn’t think so.

Though, to be fair, it was a tad difficult to focus when the last time he looked at these pages was moments before he watched Keith get harassed and almost blamed for it. Was that an everyday thing for Keith? Did people constantly give him issues while he minded his own business? Was James adding onto that until recently? Yeah, Keith had an attitude that he needed addressed, but it didn’t warrant the complete disgraceful behavior that James saw targeted towards Keith today.

Maybe Keith had that attitude, because people acted that way towards him? Was it widespread enough to be warranted though? It couldn’t be such a frequent occurrence that it would turn Keith into such a sarcastic, stand-offish jerk, right? No. James was certainly out of the loop since his parents pulled him out of sports and most time consuming extra curricular activities, but he liked to think he was still popular enough that he would’ve known if bullying Keith was a school wide secret. Even if it sounded horrific.

A small folded up post-it note hit James’s cheek. With a prompt turn of his head, his eyes landed on the source of the collision. Nadia and Ryan sat on opposite sides of the wooden desk, Ryan with his wrists against the edge of it and his fingers in a ‘w’, and Nadia’s fingers in the position of a criminal caught red handed flicking objects around the room. “Does James’s face count as a goal?”

“No.” Ryan replied.

“Oh, come on. Hitting him was _better_ than a goal!”

Ryan shook his head.

Nadia stuck out her tongue at Ryan. “Boo.”

“Do I get a say in if I’m a goal or not?” James asked, pressing his knuckles to where the edge of a makeshift paper football had hit him moments prior.

“Nope.” Nadia teased as she leaned back into the chair she sat in, “You’re a wet rag. We have to get you to stop working somehow.”

“It’s not my fault I have homework to do.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been on that page for like an hour.” She complained, “You’re not even working at this point.”

“Look, I’m just thinking about stuff.” James waved his pencil-holding hand dismissively, “It’ll be done as soon as I can focus again.”

A frown crossed Ryan’s face. “Did something happen at home again?”

“Um, no.” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand as he shifted the position of his legs to hold up his textbook better. For how soft Ryan’s mattress was, it did fail in offering proper support for anything that wasn’t sleeping. How Ryan ever managed to study while sitting on it was a complete mystery to James.

“It was something at tutoring.” Ina stated out of the blue. The way she was able to quietly analyze everything and come to informed conclusions as a part of her normal day to day activities always amazed James, but also, when it came to moments like this one, he kind of really wished she didn’t have that ability. Sometimes, he wanted to brood in his own thoughts alone, though she never seemed to have any intention of it, whether she meant to or not.

“Oh, I bet he got paired with Keith again.” A smirk grew on Nadia’s face, “Are you going to have a new bestie now?”

“I think it’d be good to give Keith a friend.” Ina replied, “I don’t think he has any.”

“James’s parents would flip if he was friends with Keith, though.” Ryan interjected.

His friends weren’t even going to let him in on a conversation about his own experiences, huh?

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty much everything his parents hate wrapped up in one delinquent ball of fury.” Nadia agreed. 

Did they know about the type of stuff James saw today though? Ina said Keith didn’t seem to have friends, which was an easy conclusion to come to, yeah, but did she notice the other things? She always had a talent for figuring out these things first, but did she know of the treatment Keith received on a daily basis? Did she know of the things that people wrote on his work? Or how they provoked him for no reason other than they thought it was hilarious to see him get in trouble when he finally retaliated?

James never considered himself the gossip type. He was far too out of the loop of everything since his dad won the mayoral election to have any benefit from participating. Omitting gossip from his life had the benefit of making him less likely to be the target of it, and with the type of people his parents were, that was a card he needed up his sleeves at all times. So, no, he didn’t exactly participate in those conversations, though he knew the same was not true for all of his friends.

One small question wasn’t exactly gossip though either, right?

He placed his loose leaf paper between the pages of his textbook and closed it. “Did you guys know Keith’s gay?”

The incredulous look he received from all his friends was the answer he needed, despite the words he also was given by Nadia.

“Yeah?” She said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “That’s old news.”

“James stays out of gossip though.” Ina defended. Honestly, thank God for her. Even if she was the one who got this whole conversation train started in the first place, she at least knew when it wasn’t time to be roasting him.

“He’s been out for a while.” Nadia continued with less of an attitude to her words, “Sucks how everyone took it. I expected it out of all the adults, but I didn’t think everyone at school would be so cruel to him.”

“Delinquency in adolescence is usually caused by other issues in their lives. It makes sense Keith has issues with authority when they’re not doing anything to stop the bullying.” Ina added.

“You talk like you’re not also an ‘adolescent’.” Nadia teased.

Ryan pointed out, “She does have a point though. Kids don’t turn bad for no reason.”

“So, you guys don’t have an issue with that stuff, right?” The words fell past James’s lips before he could even register the thought, and he immediately cursed himself for being unable to keep his mouth shut. Of course, of all the things he could say without thinking, it was the one that either made his friends out to sound like they were some sort of bigots, or that he himself was hung up on it.

In retrospect, he was a tad hung up over it, but not for the same reasons everyone else seemed to be. It was just… unexpected? That was all. It wasn’t as if Keith was ever acting aggressively straight. In fact, even when he was younger, he tended to keep to himself, but the fact that such a well known piece of information could fly over James’s head made him consider all the other things he was missing while wasting away for the sake of a possible college acceptance.

It was also hard to unsee the words that were so confidently and maliciously written over Keith’s belongings. The mere memory still brought back a punch to the gut that James hadn’t expected from the use of a single word, as horrible as the word was.

Nadia answered with a nonchalant shrug, “Some boys like boys, and some girls like girls, I’m fine with it. Whatever makes you happy.”

Her words alongside the nods of agreement from his friends had an odd sense of relief attached to them.

His phone vibrated against his thigh. Scooping it into one of his hands, he flicked the notification center open and glanced at the new texts he was just sent. Nothing but his parents sending him “gentle” reminders about his curfew and how he still had work to get done.

If he thought he was glad to have lied to his parents that he was only at Ryan’s to study for a test and not to actually escape the oppressive atmosphere that ruled his every waking moment in his house when he said it, he was definitely giving himself a pat on the back now. Yeah, they all did end up studying for real, but in the end, it was mostly James’s never-ending stress about the workload he had piling up that resulted in the group actually tending to their homework. Not from a normal burst of responsibility.

“I have to go.” James sighed, starting the process of packing up his things, “If she gets to a second text I’ll be hearing it all night.”

“Good luck.” Ryan waved.

“Text us when you’re home.” Nadia added.

James slung his bag over his shoulder, bracing one hand on the door frame as he turned to reply, “I will.” With a few more steps, he descended the stairs and prepared himself for another long night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James had met a lot of people in his life, but he was starting to wonder if any of them could ever get as confusing as Keith was starting to be.
> 
> So far, Keith was definitely winning in that department.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back and excited to post another chapter. I've been really excited about this fic lately, so I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I have lately!
> 
> Like last chapter, there is another warning for a small bit of homophobic bullying. It's a small part, but still a warning in case that is something that might be upsetting for some.

There were certain points of his life where James was absolutely convinced a proper sleep schedule was nothing but a convoluted myth to shame students into thinking they were just doing their work too slowly when the sheer amount tasked of them was actually too much to complete without sacrificing all hours of sleep and leisure. Today marked one of those points.

There were also days where James was absolutely convinced he was in over his head with the amount of work he’d managed to accumulate between all his courses, and that no one person was actually meant to complete it all in a single twenty-four hour period. Today was also one of those days.

James rubbed at the bags that he was almost sure were tattooed under his eyes at this point and took a sip of the coffee he’d made himself when he exited his house this morning. Usually, he made efforts to avoid the bitter liquid, but with the constant sleep deprivation the last two weeks had brought him, he was ready to face the jittery, anxious consequences of ingesting it. Besides, it wasn’t as if shutting down without it was going to do him any better than actually getting the work done, even if it was at the cost of feeling physically miserable.

“Caffeine doesn’t actually wake you up. It just tricks your body into thinking you’re awake,” Ina said from across the cafeteria table. She was looking up from her own textbook, pencil still in hand as she rested her gaze on James. Though, James couldn’t blame her. He must have definitely been a sight to look at.

A wave of disgust crashed over him. How did he get so lost in his workload that he didn’t even do his proper hair routine and press his shirt before bed?

He shook the thought away. If he could focus and get a few more pages in before Ryan finished up his time at art and photography club, it was a few less pages he had to do at home, which meant a possible few more minutes of sleep.

He’d say a nap was in order, but he wasn’t even sure if he even had time for a single power nap according to his planner.

A few fingers gently rocked his head against its resting place on his textbook.

On his textbook? Did he zone out?

James snapped his eyes open, slowly raising his head away from the textbook. He blinked a few times as his brain recollected his surroundings. Still the cafeteria, still Ina sitting in front of him.

“You fell asleep.” Ina’s facial features formed into a frown, “How much have you been sleeping?”

James drug his fingers through his bangs, ruining the last piece of composure he felt he could still claim and eventually settled for resting his face in the palm of his hand. “I don’t know. I think I got maybe two hours last night?”

“Every night?”

“Um, yeah, around that. My dad has me working on stuff for his campaign now.” He yawned before continuing, “Something about it looking good on college apps. I don’t know.”

“Your grades are going to drop again if you don’t start sleeping more.”

“And they’ll go down completely if I just don’t hand anything in at all. Better a few wrong answers than none at all.” He’d seen what refusing to hand in assignments and homework did to Keith’s averages. He could only imagine how it would affect his own as well.

“Can we take a walk around the halls for a few minutes then?” Ina asked with a slight tilt of her head, “It might wake you up, too.” He knew the second part was only added on to create an argument on why James should agree to her request, though it was a sweet thought to know Ina cared enough about him to make up excuses on why he should listen to her. Quitting baseball may have led to a decline in the amount of friendships he kept up, but at least he could confidently say he had a good group who worried about his well being.

“Okay, only for a few minutes though.” James pushed himself up using the table as leverage. Placing a pencil in-between the pages, he closed his textbook and waited for his friend to join him.

Ina stepped around the table, leaving the area where she was trapped between the wall and the bench and stepped beside him. A few silent moments passed before she got the accidental hint that she’d need to be the one enforcing this break. Otherwise, there was a high possibility it would either end prematurely or with James falling asleep once more.

She started on a path outside the cafeteria, periodically assuring that James continued to stay beside her. The hallways after classes had an odd feeling of peace despite the fact that it was more likely to have out of the ordinary disruptions by students once the final bell rang for the day. There was just something about that last bell that was the difference between an atmosphere of oppressive rules and regulations and one of friends happy to finally have full conversations and spend real time together after a long day of work.

It was like a new freedom that flooded the halls every afternoon. Students could do as they pleased, within reason, and it was as if they were willing to actually be in the building because of it. Did some students genuinely enjoy staying after?

It was more than known to him at this point that most students were actually excited about going home. But, staying at the school for shits and giggles? That one was something he hadn’t considered yet.

Ina stopped in front of an open classroom door. The carefree chatter of students flowed out as the light-hearted atmosphere spilled into the rest of the school.

A few moments of silence and the hint Ina was sending him was clear. He stepped inside.

The school’s art room was always a fairly active place after classes ended; students often found time to work on upcoming projects or to find their few minutes of peace with artwork in the room, and if James was more artistically inclined, he just may have attempted to as well.

Though, it wasn’t like his time there would’ve lasted anyway. If his dad wouldn’t even entertain the idea of him continuing baseball, then there was no way he would've ever been able to get away with spending an hour in the art room after school. In his father’s eyes, there was no value in frivolous things such as art. If it wouldn’t help with getting him on his way to Rice, or in creating the image of the perfect family for everyone to envy, then there was no use.

Nadia sat on a stool, shifting into dramatic poses every few moments as Ryan moved around the empty area surrounding her. From different angles and distances, he adjusted his camera, steadying his hands and snapping photos. It wasn’t uncommon for them to spend their free hours messing around with the available cameras and equipment in the art rooms, and while Nadia never vocalized any dreams of becoming a model or super star, she was never one to turn down Ryan’s requests when he was in need of a model.

Throughout the room, other students did similar activities. Some fiddled with cameras, others were wrist deep in clay or had paint staining their arms, though each one seemed engrossed in their craft no matter the medium. Soft chatter accompanied the clusters of students, including Nadia and Ryan, as work was accomplished, though, as much as James tried to force himself to keep his gaze on his friends and their activities, his eyes kept finding ways to drift to the other side of the room. The same side of the room where a single lone student sat with an easel and canvas. Paint decorated select spots of his shirt, and his hair was tied back into a baby ponytail as he carefully painted new strokes with the paintbrush in his left hand.

James stepped to the side to get a better view of the mysterious student.

Keith used his free hand to wipe away something on his cheek, though, smearing a small line of paint across it in return didn’t seem to be in his plan, but he didn’t make a move to remove it afterwards.

He didn’t know Keith was artistic. Was Keith just in a ton of classes he didn’t care about? Was that why he never paid attention or did his work? Did his passion lie somewhere else?

The millions of moments of Keith pulling out a notebook and tilting it in every which direction while their teachers rambled on about whatever the daily topic was flashed in his mind. Keith was artistic. The other boy’s whole interaction with the bullies from tutoring made too much sense now. They were trying to mess up his art, something he cared about, because they couldn’t breach through him otherwise.

James frowned. If Keith wasn’t going to be academically motivated, then he at least wanted him to have something that he was interested in at some level. It wasn’t fair for people to try and take that away from Keith as well.

His feet carried him over towards Keith before his brain could make the decision himself. If James could do anything, he could at least alert Keith to the new mark on his face before someone had the chance to change the scenario into something more negative.

His hands found his pockets, making fists where they were anxiously sheathed. Why was talking to Keith so hard? It didn’t make sense. He was just any other student. Hell, a few weeks ago, he was wholeheartedly convinced that Keith was nothing but a no good delinquent. It wasn’t hard to talk to him then. Why did a few tutoring sessions, an instance with bullies, and a new fact about his interests suddenly spring on a ton of worry about doing something as simple as starting a conversation with him?

“Hey, you have paint on your face.”

Purple eyes narrowed in on James, then quickly morphed into a glare before Keith used the back of his hand to wipe at his cheek. “Thanks.” Keith grumbled before turning his attention back to his painting.

Did he do something? Why did Keith glare at him?

James bit his bottom lip, eyes darting to the floor. Maybe it was best he left Keith alone. He was probably getting way too into Keith’s life. He needed to stop sitting next to him at tutoring. He needed to just leave him alone.

Why did he care so much about Keith anyway?

He made a one-eighty and exited the room without a word to anyone. Not Keith, not Ryan, not Ina, nor Nadia. He needed to be alone.

His body moved on autopilot, thoughts of his friends and peers possibly seeing him in such a state evaded him as his mind set to one track and could only be bothered by the need for isolation.

Once his anxiety declared the coast clear, he took a few steps backward until his back hit the wall, and a shaky breath fell from his lips. Why did he care so much about Keith’s opinion of him? Why did he care so much of what Keith was doing _at all_? The side of his fist collided with the white cinderblock wall behind him. He needed to focus. All this was just another moment of his brain running wild, while he had a million and a half things to be doing. It was happening way too frequently lately, and he had to fix that.

A familiar sense of panic crept in against his wishes. What if he was already on track for failure? What if he was already becoming less and less of what his father wanted so badly out of him? He tried and tried, relentlessly, to fit each and every idea his parents had of him. The honor student, the athlete, the jack of all trades, anything at all, as long as his father insisted it would fit into the house of lies they built. He tried to make it look as effortless as possible too, as if he didn’t even need to lift a finger, as if all of this came naturally to him, and that he wasn’t itching to break the box he had been forcibly locked into.

He sucked in a breath and then exhaled with a whisper on his lips, “Get to college.” That’s all he needed to do. He’d be out of the town sooner than he knew it. He just needed that stupid Rice acceptance, and he was home free.

He just had to bank on high school going by as fast as everyone always joked it would. No, he had to do more than bank on it. He had to sacrifice his soul to make sure it happened.

Taking a composing breath, he pushed down the anxiety bubbling within him. He needed to forget about Keith.

He needed to focus.

* * *

The same cursed pairs of desks stared back at him, mocking him, knowing how much work he still had left to do on his research paper and knowing that the only open pair of desks would probably land him with a seat next to Keith again.

If Keith showed up in the first place.

James shook the thought away. He didn’t care if Keith showed up. It didn’t matter. He was just going to take a seat and let whatever student needed a hand come to him. It didn’t have to be Keith. Hell, he didn’t even want it to be Keith. All that would mean was another session filled with checking over correct work, dealing with attitude, and not being able to convince Keith to even try. And it wasn’t like coming to this place was even helping Keith, because all the boy was doing was refusing to hand in homework, and _nothing_ James said or did ever convinced the boy to do otherwise.

Besides, seeing Keith meant dealing with his anxiety over the other boy’s feelings towards him. He really shouldn’t give half a shit about Keith’s dislike of him, but he at least wanted to know what it was that made the kid hate him as much as he did. Getting your greeting met with a glare had to mean James did something extremely wrong, right?

No. No more thinking about Keith. He had to stay on track. If he could crank out five pages tonight, he might be able to get a decent amount of sleep, and that meant, the faster he was out of here, the better. He just had to put his time in and leave before the clock ticked away all his potential resting time.

He plopped himself down at the single empty desk pair. Not bothering to glance around his surroundings for possible students, he pulled out his notepad and scribbled down more ideas for his future paper. Any and all time spent today was precious. He had to take advantage of even the smallest moments.

Spending tutoring alone also wasn’t exactly the glorious hour of his life he’d asked for in the end. Yeah, it left him with time to complete some of his work in an environment that was easier for him to pay attention in, but it also left him with a crushing feeling of inadequacy in the eyes of his peers. Was he coincidentally not picked? Or did it run deeper? Did his classmates all see him as unintelligent? Did they think he couldn’t help them? Or maybe he was just unapproachable as a person?

For some odd reason, that idea stung more than the rest.

He packed up his items with a tad more haste than usual, something in his mind begging him to leave the room and the stress that came along with it. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he did as he was told, exiting not only the classroom but the building itself.

He needed the fresh air.

Turning the corner, he felt something slam into his side, knocking the wind out of him as the other side of his body bounced against the hard brick wall of the building. A tall, broad shouldered figure loomed over him. James wasn’t a small guy by most means, but gazing up at the new addition to his day was like gazing up at a giant.

“Hey, Griffin.” The tone from the boy was mocking, jeering as if he was trying to pull a reaction out before he even started his speech, “Thought I forgot about you?”

James pushed a hand out to distance him. “Leave me alone.” Of all times for this inevitable encounter, he wasn’t in the mood for it to happen now. This asshole could come back tomorrow.

“Or what? You’ll cry to the teacher again?” The boy threw his hand up to his own face, mimicking a crying motion as he spoke condescendingly. He swung a kick into James’s shin before continuing, “Or maybe you’ll suck his dick. You’re just like Keith, huh? That’s why you care so much about him? Are you two—”

A fist collided with the boy’s jaw, sending him back. The force didn’t send him off his feet, but it gave James enough room for there to be a new sense of comfort with the distance between them.

He glanced around for the source of the punch, eyes shifting until he found himself staring at Keith’s short form yelling something at the other boy.

“I think you’re looking for me.” Keith glared, nostrils flared and left hand still in a fist.

Did Keith not hate him? He was glaring at him the other day. Why was he sticking up for him now?

The boy scoffed. “Here to save your _boyfriend_?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what this is. So, why don’t you piss off, unless you forgot who you’re about to give a black eye to?” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “I think the school will care if he has bruises, so you might as well run along.”

The boy looked at Keith, then turned to James. With a matching glare, he thrust his hand into James’s chest, shoving him back into the wall and took a few steps away. “Have fun making out, losers.”

Keith’s gaze focused on the exiting boy. Once he was out of sight, he turned to James. “You okay?”

He brushed his clothes off with his hand, eyes moving between where he was touching and Keith’s unreadable purple eyes. There was something going through Keith’s head, his gaze failing to betray him as he watched James’s movements, but it remained unspoken.

A small part of James wanted to ask, to reach out and understand the mysterious thoughts underneath Keith’s surface, but that much wasn’t welcome. Keith’s earlier attitudes made that obvious.

“Yeah.” James answered, “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Keith rested one hand on his hip as the other slipped into the pocket of the worn leather jacket he wore. The harsh smell of cigarette smoke radiated off him much stronger than usual, though something else James couldn’t really pinpoint tainted it as well. Keith’s hand left his pocket, index finger hooked around a keyring with three keys hanging off it. “We’re even.”

James quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“You got Ms. Harris to believe me for once. I got you away from that asshole. We’re even.” Keith said matter of factly. Without another word, he turned away from James and ambled toward the parking lot, leaving the other boy to stand on his own.

Did Keith hate him or not?

* * *

“James honey, can you hold this for me?” His mother held out a small plant, only letting her grip slack once it was safely in James’s hands. The bottom of the cheap cardboard container leaked out water and soggy soil onto his palms. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone with his mother to the small mom and pop plant shop in town, but it was definitely the first time in a while he’d accompanied her, especially considering the amount of time she tended to take with her decision making. The image of a perfect family started from the outside, which apparently included the outside of the house itself as well. So, picking just the right flowers for the perfectly maintained garden decorating their walkway was a necessity.

Though, when he agreed to lend his mother some assistance with her shopping, he really hadn’t expected that he’d still be standing in the same store an hour and a half later. His unfinished lab write up was practically calling him to return to his bedroom and continue his work, and every few minutes, the pleading only got louder. He was in for another morning of relentless bags under his eyes tomorrow.

He forced a smile onto his face, “Are you almost done? I think the tulips will look fine.”

“I’m sorry, baby boy. I know you have work to do. But your father will be upset too if the garden doesn’t look nice. It’s not just me.”

James rolled his eyes and accompanied the action with a grumble under his breath, “I don’t think he could notice a difference.”

Okay, maybe he was lucky she didn’t hear that.

He couldn’t exactly help being this frustrated though. She promised him a short half hour trip, so he could help her carry a few bags of soil to her car, not a full on planning of her garden. Though he probably wouldn’t have been able to refuse her request, he could’ve at least gotten to a point where he wasn’t kicking himself over agreeing to help instead.

The entrance bell sang a melody as the door swung open and closed.

At least someone else was here on a Wednesday afternoon.

Glancing up, he peeked through the row of plants obstructing his vision and let his gaze fall on the counter. The back of a teenager faced him as the two conversed just barely in James’s earshot. Yeah, eavesdropping was technically wrong, but everyone had a certain point of boredom where they were willing to listen to any conversation happening around them, and James had hit his twenty minutes ago.

“I dropped off your bill payments at the post office.” The teenager’s voice was familiar, too much so for comfort, “Do you need anything else?”

“Nope.” The shop owner shook his head, “Thank you though. Feel free to help yourself to any of the drinks in the fridge.” He opened the register and slid some money across the counter separating the two of them. “They’re on the house for you always.”

The teenager nodded and turned, pulling his hood down.

Keith? Why was Keith of all people in a flower shop?

Keith stepped toward the glass fridge door, wrapping his fingers around the handle and pulling it open. He took a few moments to select a drink, eventually settling on a bottle of soda and letting the door close as he retreated. With a wave to the shop owner, he rolled his keyring around his index finger and exited.

James’s eyes followed Keith’s movements through the safety of the store window. The other boy stalked over towards a motorcycle and swung one leg over it in a fluid motion. Starting it up, the engine purred, though barely audible from the barrier of the indoors, and moments later, Keith was pulling away to go God knows where.

“Is that that Keith kid?” His mother asked, suddenly looking in the same direction as him.

“Um, yeah.”

She let out a judgmental scoff, “I can’t believe they even let him in here.”

“Mom, that’s really not nice to say.” James reminded. Something about hearing his own parents say the same things he’d previously thought stung. There was no surprise at their thinking, he had to have learned that thought pattern somewhere, but hearing the words audibly fall from his mother’s lips hurt a lot more than he ever anticipated.

Did he actually care about Keith? No. There was no way. He’d feel like this if she said it about anybody he vaguely knew. Even if his mother had the ability to speak some extremely harsh words and could embody the stereotypical gossipy church woman at times, it was a completely different scenario when a teenager was under fire instead of an adult.

“The nice things to say aren’t always the true ones, James. That boy is nothing but trouble. I bet he stole something while he was here.” She continued rambling on as she placed more plants into the hand basket James eventually found himself carrying, “Have you ever heard of the things his poor aunt gets put through because of him? He’s horrid. She’s such a sweet lady, and he’s just completely uncontrollable.”

“I still don’t think it’s nice to be an adult saying mean things about a kid, mom.” James insisted. Even if Keith was a troublemaker, weren’t adults supposed to be protecting them? Not spreading gossip?

“You don’t understand, because you’re not a parent. One day you will.” She waved her hand dismissively, “Besides, your father and I are so lucky. We have you.”

“Yeah…” Was he only well liked by his parents, because he listened due to the threat of a household of screaming and berating? If he decided one day to stop being the image of a perfect son, would they no longer extend their love towards him? Was it all truly conditional and, the moment he no longer fell into their greater plans, he’d be cut from them entirely?

He shook the incoming thoughts away. If he gave them too much attention, he’d never get work done later.

“I don’t want you spending time with kids like him. His type are nothing but trouble, and they’ll rub off on you.” She continued, adding a few more items to the basket, “All that boy will ever be is a junkie and a thief, and you’re a smart boy. Don’t throw your future away with friends like him, okay?”

He gave her a nod to feign agreement. Her statements were anything but falling in line with his current beliefs, but if the action could please her, it was all he really needed for now.

She pressed a small kiss to the top of his head, humming contently as she wrapped her arms around him the best she could while inconvenienced by her shopping basket. “Thank you for being the best son a mother could ask for.”

He forced a smile onto his face.

Yeah, best son. They could go with that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe, just maybe, despite the complete and utter defiance that emitted from Keith on most days, there was someone good underneath. After all, it wasn't like the perfect persona James liked to put forward was one-hundred percent truther either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another update! I hope everyone enjoys.

Mrs. Holt droned on, elaborating on the specifics of what needed to be completed for the week’s lab report. While Mrs. Holt was admittedly one of his favorite teachers, and one of the ones on his list for a college recommendation, she also had a little bit of a habit of over-explaining the assignments as she went over them.

Or maybe that was just James’s own personal problem, because her thoroughness seemed to be keeping the attention of the rest of the class. Yeah, her in depth explanation of how to properly lay out the information they collected for the highest grade might have been helpful for others in retrospect, but to him, it was a never ending lecture on the things he already drilled into his brain at the beginning of the year.

He glanced to the side, eyes following the path of a few empty desks until his gaze fell on Keith, sporting his same uncaring look. Though, the boy did have two of them, James noticed. The first one had an intent focus on his sketchbook, not caring who knew he was blatantly drawing instead of taking notes. The second was much more bold. Just a vacant stare out the window as the teacher gave their lesson, not a smidge of concern for the possible retaliation that could come along with defiant displays like his. How Keith did it? The world may never know.

“Since this is a big write up, I’m giving you each a partner to collaborate on it with.” Ms. Holt’s words shot through him like an adrenaline soaked arrow. Great. Assigned partners. Just what he needed to work into his constantly tightening schedule. Finding time to sneak away with a plausible excuse to meet up or explaining to his parents who this mystery person was and why they should agree to let him meet up with them was not something he planned for his day. But, like all things, of course it had to be stacked onto the immense to-do pile.

“James, you can work with Keith.”

Well, guess he was doing the whole project on his own. At least Keith saved him from the stress of sneaking off or pleading for permission from his parents. All he had to trade for it was all of his sleep.

Lovely.

* * *

The slam of books hitting wood from several inches above rang throughout the room. Of course, he still had to be here today. Of course, he still had a million and a half things to do later. Of course, one of those things now involved a two person assignment that he’d do on his own. All because of a stupid incident with his stupid phone that just had to receive a spam call at that very moment.

He could’ve just taken the detention and dealt with his parents’ wrath for a few days. At least, he could’ve done homework in a quiet room for a while. But, no, he decided it was best to join a tutoring program that he needed to dedicate countless hours to.

He needed to stop making decisions when his anxiety flew off the charts.

Flipping open his lab notebook, he wasted no time putting pencil to paper. He didn’t have a prayer at sleep whether he got some of this done now or not, but at least this way, he could pretend.

Of all people for an assignment, he just had to get Keith. It wasn’t as if Keith was a bad person through and through, even if his feelings about the other boy weren’t completely developed at the current moment, but it was a fact that he never did his homework. It was the whole reason Keith was stuck in tutoring all the time in the first place. The guy would never just start doing his work to break the cycle. For some reason, Keith found it more worthwhile to be forced into losing his time in other places than to put in the effort to hand even unsatisfactory work. And, honestly, that was the one thing he would never understand. The rebellion? Sure. Breaking out of that box of rules and regulations looked so freeing that James could almost feel himself drool just thinking about it. The smoking? Okay, not his thing personally but to each their own. The fashion? Yeah, that was kinda hot if James was going to be honest. The way his black hair fell just right and showed off his small gauges and industrial, plus—

Wait. Did he just think of Keith as _hot_ ? No. Not him personally. Yeah, Keith was hot _hypothetically_ , if James was into guys and if Keith was his type in the first place.

Well, it wasn’t as if the thought never crossed his mind in the past. He’d had a few dreams about it too. It wasn’t that guys were necessarily unappealing. No. Not at all. He just didn’t have time to go over all the ifs, ands, and buts that came along with the idea. The whole concept was a lot to think about, and losing more sleep to the possibility of liking guys a little more than others was something he was trying very hard not to do.

And now, especially after seeing how everyone acted towards Keith, there was even less incentive to be questioning his identity, no matter how nice possibly confessing his recurring train of thought to someone who just might understand sounded.

It would have to wait until college, when he’d be a long ways away from this town and his suffocating parents.

Besides, it wasn’t like Keith had enough kind feelings towards James to be open to not only talking about his thoughts but also keeping them confidential.

Breathing out a sigh, he forced the thoughts out as best as he could. He needed to focus. Glancing over the notes he took from the experiment, he began sketching out a table to place them in. Maybe he could actually get this done. He just had to hope no one came in asking for him to tutor them.

A notebook was placed onto the table with a light slap, then slid over in James’s direction. It laid open, and the pages displayed a finished lab report. Brown eyes followed the spread fingers up to the face they belonged to.

He looked down at the lab report and back up. Confirming. There was no way.

“Keith?”

“Yeah.” Keith answered, “Think you’d know my face by now.”

“You’re not exactly a face I associate with finished homework.” James defended.

Keith joined James in the seat next to him. Drumming his fingers against the empty part of the desk, he said, “Yeah, well, you obviously think I’m much more of an asshole than I really am then.”

James rose an eyebrow at him, waiting for Keith to continue.

“I’m not your friend. But I’m not going to make you do a whole partner assignment on your own.”

James paused for a moment, absorbing Keith’s statement. Maybe he really did misjudge him. Yeah, the guy never did his homework or paid attention to lectures, but his test scores did show that he knew the material somehow. And, to automatically assume Keith would just leave him to do all the work and reap the benefits, well admittedly, that was a bit of a rude assumption.

James pulled the notebook closer to him, inspecting the work. “She assigned it this morning. When did you work on it?”

Purple eyes drifted away from James. “Yeah, well I skipped a few classes and worked on it.”

James opened his mouth, then closed it. Skipping classes wasn’t exactly something James could get behind and encourage, but Keith was being nice, maybe in his own way, but still nice. Biting his tongue on the first comment to come to his mind, he replied, “Well, you sure work fast.”

Keith pressed his lips together into a thin line as a soft, non-committal hum escaped him. “Anyway, take it. I don’t really care about it.”

“Don’t you need it, so you can copy my part later?”

Keith waved his hand dismissively. “I’m fine. You can keep it.” Keith pushed himself up from the seat.

“This is your work, Keith.”

“Yeah? So? It’s a partner project, and I did work on it.” Keith slung his bag over his shoulder. “That’s all that matters.” Without another word, he exited, leaving James alone with the lab report.

James pulled his bottom lip between his teeth before dropping his eyes to the notebook that was left for him. He gripped the first page lightly between his index finger and this thumb before turning it over to get a better look at what Keith completed. With another turn of the page, his gaze scanned over the increasing amount of work and again with the next turn.

Did Keith complete the whole report?

Why? James never gave Keith a reason to think he couldn’t finish his half, right? He handed in everything on time, even if it meant going without sleep. Why did Keith just do the whole report on his own?

Didn’t Keith not like him? Keith wouldn’t even talk to him outside of the times he absolutely needed to. There had to be something up. Keith wouldn’t just do this out of the goodness of his heart when he flat out glared at James for attempting to speak to him not that long ago.

Though, Keith did also intervene when one of the assholes, that for some reason qualified as a tutor, got into James’s business, so he couldn’t completely have it out for him, right? If Keith did truly hate him, there was no way he would have ended up giving up one of the few moments the target was off his back.

But, in all fairness, Keith _did_ say that his actions in that scenario were specifically to make things even between the two of them, seeing that James did prevent Keith from another unwarranted meeting with the principal.

So, then why did Keith feel the need to go this above and beyond? It wasn’t as if Keith was even doing his own work. Was there a memo James missed? Some sort of cue or signal that told Keith to go ahead and do the entire report? Did Keith maybe like science and did it for his own enjoyment and decided to keep up the reputation he already had within his peers and teachers?

Nothing clicked.

Why was this guy so confusing?

One minute, Keith seemed like someone James could maybe possibly get along with, then the next, he fell back into the same standoffish kid that refused to do any work and skipped classes constantly.

It didn’t make sense.

Everything in his life was always able to be put together with a formula. Like puzzle pieces, it all fit together and made sense at the end. But, Keith, no, Keith just had to flip that logic on its head, didn’t he? No matter where James tried to shove Keith and his actions into the puzzle, the other man did nothing but pop out, as if he didn’t even belong. Yeah, there were plenty of people who didn’t do their homework, skipped classes, or partied on weekends, but none of them were Keith.

No. Keith wasn’t the traditional slacker. James wasn’t sure how he knew, but the high test scores and finished report did nothing but confirm the theory. Something else was lying under the cloak of underachievement and loner tendencies.

And James was going to figure it out.

* * *

Entering Mrs. Holt’s classroom was often a breath of fresh air. She was one of the few teachers that let James feel like he wasn’t dragging through his day, especially when lab period rolled around, and he got to be on his feet for a bit instead of confined to the small desks that he’d already begged his father to push to replace.

Except for the one day his sleep deprivation led to him knocking over a Bunsen burner. Luckily, he had Ina’s quick thinking to save him. And, well, the whole classroom if things reached a worst case scenario. But, they didn’t mention that day. In fact, surprisingly that singular moment in the day was not the worst thing that happened to him in those twenty-four hours. Though, he definitely could’ve fooled anyone that it was.

Anyone but Ina.

The two of them were friends since they were in diapers, growing up side by side and welcoming Ryan and Nadia into their group as they worked their way through the school system. And while James grew into having an amazing acting talent, always attempting to keep up with his parents obsession with public image, Ina grew in her own ways. Most notably, her ability to analyze situations and pick out small details. And, while the expertise didn’t exactly help her with her overall social skills, she did become uncomfortably good at reading James when he was especially hoping that she couldn’t.

Maybe that was why he was silently hoping that the bags under his eyes were now such a constant that she wouldn’t be able to notice that he most definitely pulled another all nighter when he took his seat next to her.

If he did have anyone to thank at the moment though, it was Keith. If he hadn’t given James a finished report during tutoring yesterday, there was no way he would’ve completed all his homework, and the sheer idea of not handing something in was anxiety producing enough in itself without having to actually engage in the action.

He quickly glanced around for Keith upon his entrance. The other boy’s notebook was still in James’s possession, and if he was going to make sure he did anything today, it was that he was at least going to give it back to him. Keith deserved credit for the work that he did.

Especially considering that it was all of it.

The fact sent a pang of guilt through him and a bit of anxiety through his veins. The assignment was supposed to be done together, and here James was, slacking and allowing Keith to do all the work while he took credit. For all the times he was the one in Keith’s shoes, he should’ve been more insistent on contributing. Yeah, he did go over it all and double checked the report for errors in the math, but overall, the entirety of it was done by Keith, and it was anything but fair to be taking credit as if he was an equal participant in its creation.

Then there was the fact that Mrs. Holt knew his work well. He was always extremely thorough and made sure to touch on every detail, never leaving out a potential to earn full points. Would she notice that James didn’t have anything to do with the lab report? Would it be obvious that all he did was copy what Keith wrote down and called it a day?

Maybe he should just confess to her right now. Let her know he didn’t do what he was supposed to.

No. It was better to lie and keep up the image. If he started coming out with the truth now, it was only a matter of time before all the teachers assumed his work was nothing but a product of cheating instead of his own hours spent perfecting it. And that outcome was something he couldn’t afford, even if this scenario was a first in his life.

Sweeping his eyes over the classroom, he focused in on Keith’s desk.

Empty.

A frown fell over James’s face. Was Keith skipping again?

He’d just have to give it to Mrs. Holt at the end of class then.

Sliding into his seat, he greeted Ina with a small wave.

“You didn’t sleep again.”

Why was she so good at that?

“My dad dragged me to his campaign meeting, and then my mom asked for help with her church fundraiser. So, I didn’t get started on my work until ten.” He confessed.

“And they don’t let you play baseball.”

He shook his head. She was right. The time required by a school sport was much less than the time his parents were zapping out of his evenings, yet somehow, in their eyes, one was a waste, and the other was justified.

He shrugged. “You know how they are.”

His gaze drifted over towards the empty desk that refused to leave his mind. Though, it was now glaringly obvious that both desks in the pair remained without occupants. Were both students out? Maybe Keith was genuinely sick, and James was nothing more than the asshole he had always been towards Keith, assuming the worst and thinking of him as nothing more than a delinquent.

No. That other desk wasn’t also empty on chance. If James could count on his sleep deprived memory, no one ever sat there.

Keith always sat alone.

How was it that easy to overlook? Yeah, Keith didn’t have a ton of friends or really any if James’s recollection was to be trusted. So, it wasn’t unexpected that he’d sit alone, but there was still something about the knowledge that was upsetting.

Why did he care so much? It wasn’t like _he_ was Keith’s friend either. In fact, every time he tried, Keith refused.

Though, it was also a known fact that he also didn’t try to develop a friendship with Keith until very, very recently, so maybe it wasn’t all that fair to pin the entirety of the blame on Keith.

Either way, the knowledge only meant one more confirmation that Keith was struggling in the friend department, unable to even secure a deskmate.

But, could James even be sure that Keith wanted someone to sit next to him? In all fairness, Keith was almost like a porcupine. When you get pricked for reaching out, people tend to stop. Even if the behavior was probably just related to the constant bullying that seemed to begin to stick out more and more on James’s radar.

He would just have to hand in Keith’s report and let him know. If anything, it would at least show some good intentions. And, in the end, it was the right thing to do, whether or not he wanted Keith as a friend.

Besides, all he needed to confirm his hypothesis about Keith’s attendance was to see him at tutoring later. Nothing he could do now.

* * *

Handing in Keith’s report after his biology class was met with Mrs. Holt’s praise of James’s character and thoughtfulness as well as an assurance that Keith would receive credit for his work.

If only she knew his true character. He was a liar at best, constantly deceptive at worst. Each and every day seemed like a set of walls moved closer to him, squishing him in and creating a specific way for him to behave and project to the world. If the door to that room didn’t unlock soon, he was almost unsure that he’d recognize himself in a few years.

But, that was too heavy of a conversation to dare to have with a teacher.

So, he resolved to reply to her with a smile and thanks for the compliment.

His slipping veil was already being put on display by his required attendance as a tutor, so what was the point on confirming that for anyone, especially an instructor.

He opened up one of his textbooks, eyes flicking between the printed words and the results of his moving pencil on his notebook. The sooner his work was done tonight, the sooner he could sleep. He needed every moment if he had even a remote shot at getting four hours tonight, especially if his parents were going to pull something similar as they did the night before.

Besides, the classroom provided a nice study area when he let himself think about it. Though granted, it was because, not only was the room itself designed for academics, but that the atmosphere definitely shifted into study mode as soon as tutoring started.

Would Keith come today? Was he truly sick, or was it another day that he decided he didn’t need to be present? Or maybe it was the latter, with Keith skipping tutoring again despite the threats of phone calls home.

Jealousy shot through him at the thought of Keith’s parents receiving a phone call depicting his grades and lack of attendance and deciding that the incidents were nothing to get on his case about. The sheer idea of being allowed to skip class and not hand in assignments to the point of his grades dropping without a blip from his parents was a dream. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to try in school at all, no, but there was a certain thrill to the idea that he could just walk out, and no one could touch him.

If he was anyone else’s son, he probably could’ve. Father the mayor of their small town, well respected, the man no one wanted to wrong; he could’ve had a life where no one wanted to tell him no. A life where he could’ve been seen as someone people wanted to be instead of the kid who did nothing but study.

But, no, he was the son of the mayor who was image obsessed and authoritarian behind closed doors. Father a man who saw nothing more than an end goal for his son and was assuring that James didn’t mess up his life in the meantime.

He shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. There was no time to be wondering about the life he could’ve had. An assignment sat in front of him, and there was only so much time between now and when someone asked for his help that he could actually attempt to work on it.

A body slid into the chair next to his.

Speak of the devil.

The potent, yet familiar, smell of cigarette smoke wafted towards James’s nostrils as Keith lowered his hood, exposing an angry welt on the side of his face. “Hey.”

It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t—

“Are you okay?” James blurted out, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Oh.” Keith tentatively touched the mark in question, “Yeah. I’m okay. Got in a fight.”

“You should tell someone.”

“Like they care about me.” Keith replied bitterly, nose wrinkling as the words came out, “Besides, who says I didn’t start it?”

“It’s not exactly a good look to be walking around with a mark like that on your face.” James said, closing his textbook.

“I don’t think anything about me is a ‘good look’.” Keith added air quotes around the last two words.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Why did he say that? It wasn’t like Keith wanted his comfort, right? He was overstepping. He had to be.

Keith pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a split second, eyebrows creasing, then let the expression wash off his face. He shook his head and pulled out a test, sliding it over towards James. “I lost a point.”

“Oh.” James took the paper into his hands, focusing in on it as best as his dysfunctional brain allowed him too.

It was far too hard to think.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. All he had to do was clear his mind, and it would be fine. He could be in bed in a few hours.

Leaning over, he fished out a folder from his backpack and opened it. He placed a matching test on the desk and flicked his eyes between the two. He could figure this out. He just needed to try harder.

Yeah, that’s all. He just wasn’t trying hard enough.

“Okay, so…” James let his voice trail off. He had to at least attempt to look like he was at the top of his game, wide awake and ready to conquer what came next. It was part of the image. He didn’t study hard for his grades, not according to the outside world at least. These things came naturally to him. That’s what they all needed to keep thinking.

He tapped the eraser against Keith’s graciously offered notebook, praying that it would jog his brain into actually being a brain for a few minutes.

Was he really that sleep deprived? No. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t falling asleep at his desk like he’d done so many times in front of Ina on his worst days. He just wasn’t pushing hard enough.

Keith’s voice cut through his fog like a knife.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to it.”

“I’m fine.” He insisted. Admittedly with much more bite than he intended, even if said bite was aimed towards himself.

Keith crossed his arms on his desk, leaning his weight into them. “If you say so.”

“I am, okay?”

He forced his hand into writing the numbers out onto the spare paper. He just needed to make his brain work on math, and then it would come to him. He knew it.

His eyes flicked between the two sets of answers. There had to be something he was missing. It was just a little difficult. That’s all.

He compared them again, raking them both for differences. They had to be there, he just had to—

There.

“You multiplied instead of using the exponent first. PEMDAS.” James pointed to the error with the eraser end of the pencil, eyes flicking up towards Keith to gauge his reaction.

“Oh. Stupid mistake?” The other boy answered with much more complacency than usual.

James nodded. “Yeah. Nothing big.”

“Okay. Do you have problems for me to do?” Keith asked, voice even and lacking the signature attitude that James had grown to expect each time they met.

“You’re _asking_ for problems?” James shot him a disbelieving look. In all fairness, it was something still pretty much in line with his whole issue of pigeon holing Keith. Though, at least this specific exchange was supported by previous behavior, the same behavior that James had the pleasure of putting up with on the days Keith was at his most uncooperative.

“Yeah. That’s what you want, right?” Keith rested his head onto his knuckles, carefully avoiding the obvious welt.

“Yeah. But since when have you been willing to just let me actually tutor you?”

Keith shrugged. “Maybe I got all the fighting out of my system today.”

James squinted at him as a dramatically suspicious look crossed his face. “You’re not just doing this so you can be doubly difficult tomorrow, are you?”

“Fine. Don’t give me problems then. I don’t care either way.”

James ran his index finger up the bridge of his nose. “No. No, I’ll give you some. Hold on.”

At least his easy day with tutoring Keith was scheduled for today. If one day was going to be kicking his ass in particular, at least it was the day where Keith decided he was too over it to fight him on the basics of how their sessions worked.

Even after James was almost sure Keith was going to notice that, he had resulted in giving him busy work. Or, maybe Keith did and just didn’t care. After all, it made his life easier too.

“Okay, so, are you coming tomorrow?” James asked as they both packed their bags in unison, James exponentially more careful than Keith.

“I have to, don’t I?” Keith replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” James leaned over, gracefully sliding his test folder in between two textbooks. “I’ll give you another problem tomorrow to make sure you remember what we went over.”

“Okay. See you.” Keith said before turning and exiting the room without waiting for James’s reciprocation of the words.

Well, it wasn’t like Keith wanted to be there in the first place. The words on their own were better than the usual grumpy exits James usually got from the other boy.

Wait. Shit. He forgot to tell him about the lab report.

He shoved the remaining articles around him into his bag and tossed it onto his backpack carelessly. If he was quick, he could catch up with him. 

With a quick pace, he set towards the direction Keith turned, using his hand as leverage to swing out of the classroom. His eyes glanced around the halls, desperately searching for any sign of Keith in his line of sight.

A moment passed before he zoned in on him. Keith’s head was bent over, clearly paying attention to whatever was on his phone as he padded into the bathroom and disappeared from view.

Okay. He had time then.

Slowing his steps, he ambled towards the restroom. All he needed to do was let Keith know he gave Mrs. Holt the report, and then he could meet up with Ryan for his ride home. Nothing hard.

A small sound echoed from the room in question. Then another. Each one like clockwork after the other, amplifying as James’s proximity grew.

The only thing he needed to do was step inside the room to know just what exactly he was hearing.

And he didn’t like it.

No. That was an understatement. He loathed it.

“Please,” Keith’s voice came from an unidentified stall, broken and vulnerable, “I know you have class tonight. I won’t bother you, I promise.” He paused, then continued, “Yeah, I’ll just play video games with Matt.” He sniffled, “I just don’t want to go home. We’re going to fight about the bruise, and I just want to feel like I belong for a bit. Today really sucked.”

Was Keith okay?

“Yeah, the bullying.”

James took a step forward then stopped himself. No. He couldn’t just barge in like that. Even if this was a public bathroom, there was still something to be said about privacy and boundaries when it came to knocking on a bathroom stall that someone was in.

“Okay. Thank you, Shiro. I’ll wait outside.”

Shit. He had to leave. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Keith couldn’t catch him listening to his conversation. Fuck.

He dug a crumpled index card out of his pocket and the pencil he shoved in alongside it. Scribbling out a quick note about the lab report, he left it on one of the sinks, hoping that it would cross Keith’s range of vision, and hastily attempted departure.

That conversation wasn’t for him to hear. He needed to forget it. It wasn’t his business. Besides, he did what he was there for. He told Keith about the lab report, even if it was done through a piece of paper in a restroom.

And, well, maybe it could cheer him up, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you all, I'm super super excited for everyone to read the next few chapters, just saying lmao


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was always something that stood out every time he looked at Keith. Sometimes it was the uncaring demeanor that he gave off, refusing to put effort into his schooling, and other times it was the way he sat alone without another soul daring to approach him. But, at the end of the day if there was one thing James was unable to forget, it was how badly Keith seemed like he needed a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to be back and posting this chapter! I've been itching to share it since I finished the draft. I hope everyone enjoys it!

One foot met the ground from the steep school bus step, then the other, as a line of students followed behind him. The bus wasn’t James’s favorite part of the day. No, it was noisy and ate up more of the time he could’ve used for sleep in the mornings, but it also always served as the perfect excuse to leave his house earlier when he needed it. And, boy, did he need it after hearing his parents go at each other all morning.

If it was anyone else, they could’ve fooled them, letting the outside world believe that they were just having a calm conversation. But, James had the unfortunate displeasure of being the one to see through their illusion. Sharp words cut like knives as growing resentment fueled their every sentence, and the conversation fell into a bottomless pit of competition to see who was the morally superior one of the two of them. The exchange always ended upon his father’s subtle mention of something James was never allowed to know about.

Sometimes, he wished he didn’t understand what was going on, that he could be in blissful ignorance of the real venom behind their words.

And sometimes, he wished their attention would turn back on him. It always seemed as if their negative energy flying at one another was supposed to be his break from the constant criticism. As if it was a few moments that he could have some inner peace. Though, in all honesty, it was usually easier to digest the harsh comments that made it his way than it was to watch his parents escalate the vitriol until he was fighting off his own anxiety.

Perfect family his ass.

If he had a relationship, would it be like that? Would his own future marriage be plagued by arguments and petty attempts to one up the other, while his kids stood idly by hoping they would stop sooner than later?

He pushed his hands into his pockets. He didn’t need to think of that right now.

He had a happy family. A happy life. He was a good student. He slept last night. No one in his house fought all night. Perfect life.

He forced a smile onto his face.

The yellow vehicle drove off, leaving the pungent smell of its fumes in its wake.

Flipping his wrist over, he glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes until the bell rang.

He could wait for Nadia before going inside. She mentioned wanting to review for history before classes anyway. What was the point of going inside and attempting to wade through a mass of students to find her?

Padding towards a bench, he took a seat, the fresh air filling his sinuses and easing the residual anxiety from the morning’s unfortunate occurrences. Did other people need to plan their morning out when their parents fought? Did other people’s parents even fight?

He breathed out a sigh. It wasn’t worth the brainpower. All he’d do is swim in his own pity party until he dragged himself out.

A small black car pulled up in front of the sidewalk, far enough to exclude malicious intentions though close enough to rouse curiosity. It wasn’t unheard of for parents to drop off their kids. In fact, it was always something he’d wished he could have. Even on the days his parents were around, they refused to entertain the possibility of driving him to school in the mornings. The bus made their lives easier. No need to personally shofer their son, no need to worry about if he got there on time, just the security that he’d make it to school and play the part of the perfect and studious son.

His dad was never exactly the type to want to spend extra time with him anyway.

The car sat still for a few minutes, engine humming as exhaust disappeared into the air.

What was taking them so long? Did parents usually talk to their kids for that long?

The kid in the passenger seat sat dejectedly with his head low. The man in the driver’s side looked far too young to be his dad, someone old enough to possibly be a university student. His black hair was accented with white bangs, and he kept his focus on the teen, talking to him with words James would never hear.

The poor guy needed a pep talk for school.

Yeah, school wasn’t James’s favorite part of his day, even if it got him out of the house and away from his parents for a bit, but he couldn’t imagine needing a whole pick me up speech to just get out of the car.

Had he been overlooking the experiences of other students this long? In no way did James have the typical life, but he was able to walk into school and know that he would find an aura of safety and success. Was it different for others?

The kid in question pulled his hood off his head, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes.

Keith?

Was he crying?

It was no secret Keith was getting bullied and that he wasn’t exactly the model student, but was he really so averse to going to school that he cried in the car before he started his day? Was the bullying so bad he had to have someone give him a pep talk before he had the will to enter through the doors each day? Had James not even considered what Keith’s life was like in his shoes?

He needed to change that.

The driver reached over and wrapped his arms around Keith tightly, more muted words exchanged before they separated.

“Hey, James!” Nadia exclaimed from the other direction. With a swift movement of his head, he faced her as she bounded towards him. “Ready for Ms. Sanda’s personally designed hell?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, voice level and unamused, “The quiz?”

“You know it.”

“It’s a quiz.”

“Yeah,” Nadia dramatically flicked her head forward, ponytail following as she continued her sentence, “But she makes them way hard.”

“Fine.” James crossed his arms over his chest, “You win there.”

She hooked her arm around his and dragged him towards the school. “Anyway, let’s go. I need to get a B on this one if I want to pull a good grade for the quarter.”

He turned his head towards the car that previously had his attention, then back in the direction his feet were taking him in.

He could talk to Keith later.

* * *

Study hall in the courtyard was one of the many perks that came with having glowing reviews and opinions from all his teachers. Never broken a rule, never handed in a late assignment, never felt the need to lie about where he was going, everything in his favor to create an environment where he was regarded with favor.

At least his parents were right about one thing. Being the perfect student made him very well liked.

He flipped over to the next page of his textbook, scribbling the problems down onto the loose piece of paper with adequate room to solve them. If he was smart about his time, there was a chance he could maybe get to bed early. Maybe. But, a slim chance at the possibility that his head could hit a pillow before midnight was extremely enticing.

Honestly, it was a tad pathetic.

Pushing his bangs out of his face, he refocused his eyes on the lines of text in front of him. Studies always said sleep was necessary to succeed, to function at full capacity, to do any number of things well and safe, but sometimes, the whole concept felt just a tad too real.

When  _ was _ the last time he slept more than three hours? Last Saturday? Maybe? Who cared anyway? He’d just need a power nap when he got home.

Moving his eyelids felt like a workout, lifting weights with each blink as a pleasant breeze grazed his skin. A nap sounded fucking fantastic.

Maybe just resting his eyes…

No. He had to get this done. Long term pleasure versus short term pleasure. It would pay off. He just had to get through this now.

His eyelids lowered again on their own accord.

He pushed his work away from him and swung his legs out from under the table as he snapped them open. A walk would help. Just a few minutes to wake his body up.

One foot stepped forward, then the other, starting his journey across the small enclosure. A few laps was all he needed.

The breeze hit him again, accompanied by a longing for a moment to himself. Just one to relax and breathe. Though in reality, there wasn’t exactly a guarantee that any moment to himself would end up in that way. In fact, there was probably a greater chance that a moment to himself would come packaged with a looming feeling of dread as something else dawned on him. A new reminder of his never-ending list of commitments, a realization that he actually had less and less of a life outside of his new expectations, or maybe it would just be the horrid moment that it settled in that his life was actually completely out of his control, and he was always a few seconds from possibly have it all be much clearer to him than he would ever like.

For all the education he buried himself in, he sure did like the ignorance that came with pretending that nothing was out of the ordinary with his life, or how he was one hundred percent subservient to whatever his parents wishes were. Pretending he had a happy life was the first step to believing in it anyway, right?

A door swung open on the other side of the courtyard, and his eyes snapped to the culprit.

Keith. Clad in the same hoodie from earlier in the morning.

Was he coming out here to smoke? He’d get caught for sure, right?

Keith turned to reveal a fancy-looking sketchbook securely in his arms and a pencil in his left hand. It wasn’t a normal yellow one, nor a mechanical. It was a different color and looked far too expensive for it to be designed for use for normal schoolwork.

With a swift motion, Keith plopped himself down on the pathway between the two ends of the enclosed area. Crossing his legs, he flipped the notebook open and reached into his hoodie pocket. He dumped a worn out and dirty pencil case onto the arrangement of stones and began moving the utensil across the paper.

Oh. He was drawing.

Did Keith do this often? Did he come to the courtyard usually? Or did he move about the school? Was this what he did when he was skipping classes?

His feet moved on their own accord, dragging James towards the center of his thoughts.

Why did he want to sit with him so badly? He got his chance to do that every afternoon when they had their tutoring sessions. The same time spent together that always left him in an odd state of frustration and lightheartedness.

Not that he was actively looking for chances to spend time with Keith or something similar! No. He just wanted to be nice to him and know why he didn’t do his work.

And not that he also didn’t want to spend time with Keith either! Keith was turning out to be an okay guy, so there was no reason to be an asshole and avoid him like a ton of other people did. No. James was doing his best to just not be an asshole. That was all.

He lowered himself onto the ground. “Hey.”

Purple eyes flicked up to look at James, and then they were gone, back on the sketchbook in his lap. If he had blinked, he would’ve most definitely missed it.

Honestly, every rational part of him felt the barrier between them. The invisible one that almost seemed physical.

He really was going to start cutting at this anyway, wasn’t he?

Yep.

He’d just have to have a talk with himself later about leaving Keith alone when they weren’t at tutoring. But, it was too late now, right?

What should he ask? What he was drawing? No. Too forward. Besides, what if he was drawing something personal and didn’t want to talk about it? Maybe about what class he was in right now? No. What if Keith took it the wrong way and thought James was just judging him for skipping? Or what if he wasn’t skipping, and he assumed James  _ thought _ he was and then assumed that James just categorized him as a delinquent?

Damn. He hadn’t gotten this worked up about how to talk to someone since he sat next to that really pretty girl in his algebra class last year. He spent hours overthinking about what he said to her and what he was planning to say next.

In retrospect, he had the biggest crush on her. It was kind of funny now.

Shit. He still needed something to ask him. Something not school. Something not explicitly about that drawing. Something neutral and natural. Anything.

He opened his mouth, letting the words fall out with an unexpected steadiness and grace, “What kind of pencils are those?”

Really?  _ Really _ ? He just said  _ that _ ?

He had to be kidding himself. There was no way he just asked Keith about his  _ pencils _ of all things.

Oh God, he was such an idiot.

Keith probably thought that too now. Fuck.

He balled his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm as he fought off a steady tremor. Letting his teeth dig into his bottom lip, he ran through the situation in his head.

Why was he getting anxious? It was just Keith. It wasn’t like there was anything on the line here. There was no threat of getting in trouble or of his parents thinking he wasn’t the child they always wished they had. No. It was just a conversation.

Sometimes he hated his brain.

“They’re for art.” Keith said bluntly, void of any emotion but the twinge of annoyance that settled under the words.

Shit. He was bothering him.

Why did he still want to talk to him?

“How are they different?”

Keith flicked his eyes back up to James, gaze roaming over him, searching for something James couldn’t quite figure out. With a slight squint, he answered, “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Keith’s pencil stopped, never leaving the page where it halted. “No one wants to talk to me unless they want me to give them cigarettes, or they’re planning to make fun of me.” His striking irises met James’s with an intense aura. “And I know you don’t want cigarettes. You’re too much of a teacher’s pet.”

“What?” He choked out.

“You heard me. I’m not an idiot. I don’t know  _ why _ you’re so intent on being nice to me, but I’m not falling for it, so stop.” The words were harsh and unforgiving, refusing to leave room for another interpretation.

“That’s not what I want at all!” James cried, voice moving up an octave. How did Keith think that he wanted to see him hurting like so many others did despite all the time they spent together? Had he done something?

Though, looking back on the last few days… yesterday’s tutoring session was not exactly his moment of thoughtful word choice. Was Keith’s behavior yesterday his way of being nice back? Yeah, Keith cried in the bathroom after, but maybe the lack of opposition was not just a product of a breakdown waiting to happen. Maybe it was a genuine attempt at getting along that James expertly ruined.

“Sure.” Keith’s head snapped back to the sketchbook, and his hand movements returned, albeit much harsher and stiff.

“It’s not. Really. I feel bad you have a ton of people acting like that towards you—”

“So, you want to talk to me, because you pity me.” Keith interrupted with the same harshness and pointed lack of eye contact.

“No!” Shit. Shit. Shit. He was fucking this up  _ bad _ . He needed something to prove to Keith that that wasn’t the case. He needed to show that he was genuinely trying to get to know him. He needed—Oh! The lab report!

“I,” He tripped over the first syllable of the sentence and forced out a speedy recovery before he continued, “I don’t know why exactly I want to talk to you, but, I do. I want to get to know you a little better. That’s all. And, if you don’t believe me, then I don’t know if you saw the note I left you, but I handed in your report to Mrs. Holt so you’d get credit.”

“Yeah. You can fuck off specifically for that one.” Keith spat.

“What?”

“If I wanted to hand it in, I would’ve told you that.” Keith answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why would you do all that work and not want credit for it?” James asked, arms moving with his confused words.

The movements of Keith’s pencil picked up speed and pressure. “Thanks to you, Mrs. Holt’s going to actually expect shit out of me now.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” James asked with a creased brow and inflection at the end.

“Yeah. It’s a bad thing.”

“Wasn’t your whole thing that the teachers don’t think you’re trustworthy? Wouldn’t this help?”

“For as good as your grades are, you really are dumb.”

“You know what? No.” James crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to know what the fuck is your deal.”

“Oh no, goody-two shoes cursed.” Keith replied, words oozing out intense amounts of sarcasm, “Look out. He’s such a badass.”

“Fuck off.” James snapped, “If you think you’re the first person to talk to me like that, then you’re wrong. You’re not the only person in the world with people who are mean to them.” His knuckles hit the stone pathway, stinging as they scraped the skin, “So, tell me what the hell is your deal. First you’re an ass, then you’re nice, then you’re an ass, then you’re nice, and then you’re an ass again. So, which is it?”

“Guess I’m an ass.” Keith shrugged.

“No. I’m not taking that as an answer. I’m sick of you doing whatever,” James waved his hands wildly with the word, “this is. Is it a game? I’ll play.”

An uncomfortable silence passed between them, Keith’s hand still and the breeze bathing them far too gentle for the conversation. The other boy pressed his lips into a thin line, something unreadable crossing his eyes before he finally uttered his next words.

“You know they’ll turn on you if you keep talking to me.”

Was that what this was about? Was Keith pushing him away for James’s own sake?

No. There had to be more to this. Keith hadn’t been straight with any of his answers this far. There was no reason to believe this was the full story now.

He needed to dig further. Run through the twisted maze Keith created.

“Who said I cared about what anyone else thought?”

“You should.” Keith paused, then continued, “Besides, I know that’s a lie. You’re the most image obsessed guy in this whole building.”

“Says who?”

“You haven’t slept in days, and you’re still trying to act like your life is all that. Image concerned if I ever saw it.” Keith said.

Was he really coming off the same way his parents did? Only concerned about what other thought of him and not paying any true attention to being genuine?

He couldn’t think of that right now.

James crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t say I’m the only one here.” When Keith only gave him a look, he continued, “You think I’m not noticing the whole bad boy front?”

“What makes you think it’s a front?”

“You’re never consistent.” James pointed out, “You keep saying that you don’t care, but you actually did our lab report and made sure to point out you aren’t an asshole. If you really didn’t care, then why did you even bother? You didn’t even want the credit for it.”

“None of that has to do with the ‘bad boy’ you assume I am.” Keith put air quotes around the words as he spoke.

James mimicked the motion. “Then what does any of this have to do with my ‘image’.”

“Look.” Keith snapped, picking up his supplies and moving to get up. “Trust me when I say you want to stay far away from me if you can help it.”

He reached out, hand gently grabbing at the fabric of Keith’s hoodie and focusing his gaze intently on the other boy. “Then trust me when I say I don’t want to.”

Keith pressed his lips together, blinking silently as he returned the eye contact with an angry glare. “No.”

“Why are you so difficult?!”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Why am I so difficult?” He gathered his things properly and stood. “You want to know why I’m so ‘difficult’, James Griffin? You have the word trap written all over you!” He shouted, foot hitting the ground in an angry stomp as James rose to meet him. “I told you, I’m not stupid. And, I’m not letting the guy with two loving parents and an array of people who give a fuck about what happens to him trick me into thinking you genuinely want to be my friend. I’ve made that mistake before, and everyone knows how that ended up. So, quit while you’re ahead.”

“That’s not—”

“Bullshit!” Keith interrupted, “If anything, you’re the last person I should be trusting.”

The words sliced through him like a machete, then stabbing him through the chest to finish him off.

Why did Keith’s rejection hurt this bad?

He pressed his teeth into his bottom lip. Taking a deep breath, he cast his eyes down and focused on the different colors in the stones the two of them stood on, attempting to ignore the tremors in his fingers. This wasn’t a battle he was going to win. He’d learned it too many times with his parents. There was a level things could hit before people started refusing to budge on their stance, and Keith was well past that.

Somehow, even with the rationale that Keith wasn’t hating just him, that he was hating many more people too, the new wound still throbbed.

“Fine.” James finally said, a sigh escaping him afterwards, “I’ll leave you alone.” He took a step back, then another, before making his move and turning back towards the table he was originally at. Once he was seated in front of his work again, he rewarded himself with a small glance up to where Keith was standing.

He was gone. The door to the hallway closest to a real exit inched closer and closer to being closed once more, leaving only the obvious assumption of Keith’s last actions.

Maybe he really was an asshole.

He glanced back down at his homework. Tapping the eraser of his pencil against the paper, he resigned himself to what the rest of his study hall was going to be.

Closing his textbook, he crossed his arms and laid his head down.

* * *

Keeping himself on task was nothing short of a miracle. Every moment without some sort of task or distraction led to drifting thoughts and returning anxiety.

Why did Keith’s words hurt? It wasn’t like they were friends. And it wasn’t like James had trouble making friends either. In fact, he was extremely well liked on the baseball team before he quit, even if he often turned down invitations to parties after games. So, it wasn’t like he could be hurt about losing a potential friendship.

It made no sense.

Just like Keith.

No. He had to stop thinking about him. He needed to focus on his work. Studies were the most important thing. School was going to get his parents out of his hair.

And get him away from them entirely in a few years.

He opened his binder, pulling out a sheet of looseleaf and twirling his pencil between his fingers as he attempted to bring his thoughts back to the textbook in front of him. The classroom atmosphere was always a boost to his studying morale, but somehow, it failed to hold the same quality when he couldn’t keep himself from waiting with baited breath for Keith’s arrival.

This boy was ruining him.

He glanced at the clock, watching the minute hand tick as time passed by. Each movement bringing it closer and closer to the top of the hour. Still, no sign of Keith.

Why did that bother him so much? He was just Keith’s tutor, nothing more. It wasn’t as if he was even specifically Keith’s tutor either. Keith could choose anyone else in the room to go over his tests and assign him problems to make the knowledge stick. Even if Keith did walk through that door, it wasn’t like he had to sit with James.

He needed to stop worrying.

Flicking his eyes back down to his work, he jotted down a few notes from the assigned reading before losing his discipline and focusing on the clock once more.

Keith wasn’t coming, he had to accept that. Even if the stabbing feeling in his chest made his fingers curl when he gave it any attention.

And even if the sight of everyone packing up with Keith nowhere to be found just twisted the knife.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Keith said to stay away, but that didn't apply to if one of them genuinely needed a helping hand... right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for not updating last month. Life has been a bit rough on my end, but here's a new chapter for y'all to enjoy!

The dim desk lamp illuminated the room, focusing its efforts on keeping the scattered papers at the center of James's attention. It wasn't a pretty sight, no, but it was a familiar one. Painfully so. The way the shadows swallowed each and every part of his bedroom except for the one he was supposed to be actively engaging with was as much for him as it was for his parents. Yeah, maybe it helped him forget about everything except his never ending pile of assignments, but the added fact that it kept his parents from realizing just how many hours were being put into his effort to keep his grades satisfactory in their eyes was the more important one. The discussion of all-nighters seemed to always end in how it was somehow James's fault that he had to miss out on sleep, even if he was attempting to balance other activities. It was the same issue that got him pulled out of baseball, but there was a nagging feeling that he wouldn't be pulled from helping his father's mayoral campaign if the issue came up again.

No. It would just be another verbal beatdown about how he spent too much time goofing off.

He ran his fingers through his bangs, pushing them up and out of his face for a brief moment. There was a point in every night that the words on the page turned to gibberish, and not another fact wanted to work its way into his mind. No, it wasn't like that was the time he could put the books away and climb into his bed, as tempting as it was to do so. All it meant was that he had to find a way to somehow complete the tasks expected of him, even if it meant he spent some time fighting away quick and shaky breaths as he shook and let the severity of the overwhelming expectations crash over him with the same lack of control he had over the rest of his life. But, even his bedroom was a place where he felt the continuing need to act take hold. It was no longer just the public he was gluing the image back into place for, no, at some points it was himself too. There was a pathetic part of him that needed to pretend for his own sake, to remember who he was to everyone else lest he forget how to fit the puzzle pieces together in the morning.

After all, he was the perfect student to everyone, right? He could still be that to himself too. He had to.

He slipped his phone into his hand, unlocking it and tapping into his contacts. Tired eyes resting over the name of his best friend as his thumb hovered above it, fighting tremors that were admittedly all too familiar. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he shut off the screen and placed the object face down onto the wood. Ina was probably asleep. He didn't want to wake her over something so trivial. Besides, even if she wasn't, she would insist that verbally talking about his stress would help more in the long run, and he couldn't risk tipping his parents off to the fact he was awake at ungodly hours. And, if he was caught on the phone as well? He didn't want to think about it.

Sliding the object away, he hung his head low and shut his eyes momentarily. Just a minute. That's all he needed.

He snapped his eyes open. No. That was a gateway to falling sleep for the rest of the night. He needed to force himself through this. He could do it. It was only hard in his head, not in reality.

Air. Maybe fresh air would wake him up.

Pushing away from his desk, he rose to his feet and stepped towards the window, body rigid and fighting him with every movement along the way. With a few extra actions, he shoved the window up and let the cool breeze rush in. One deep inhale after one deep exhale at a time, he let the new sensation come over him. It was okay. He could take a small break.

Just a few minutes. That's all he'd take. He could be back to his work in no time and still finish it for tomorrow.

In and out. That's all he needed to do. Take a few deep breaths in front of the new refreshing breeze that washed over him. No, things wouldn't change. He would still have to go back to the same homework that haunted his thoughts, but at the very least, he could compose himself before his return. Besides, it wasn't as if this was unfamiliar territory. No, in fact, there was room for an argument that this was a pattern. A pathetic, continuous pattern.

He opened his eyes, letting his senses focus on the outside world around him. The difference between the aura of his bedroom and the mood of the rest of the planet was stark. One was stifling, claustrophobic, and ready to consume him the moment he fell out of line, and the other was open, inviting, and free, welcoming him to join it in a lighthearted enjoyment of its features.

The crickets outside the window called to him, singing in an attempt to lure him away from his work. And, honestly, it was something that sounded much nicer than he previously thought. The idea of sitting out on his porch enjoying the crickets' lullaby was much more enjoyable than committing himself to more schoolwork, especially when the latter was an option that would lead to nothing but anxiety and insecurities about his proficiency in the performance as the star student.

It was peaceful though, imagining a life where he could enjoy the outdoors and not worry about the consequences of how he divided his time. But, to be fair, it wasn't as if the outdoors didn't carry a peaceful vibe on its own. A place where no one could ask things of him or expect a certain person, a place where he could really touch the person he was, not the one everyone envisioned.

His gaze fell on the quiet road. It wasn't a shock that the people fell silent around here after a certain hour, but it was something that always managed to peak his curiosity whenever it didn't. Every car that zoomed past left him with nothing but questions about where they were going? What were they doing at this hour? And did they enjoy the fact they had the freedom to do so?

What would that be like?

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No!" A shout echoed into the night as the hum of an engine came to a stop along with it. It was young, familiar, and something this brain didn't want to tie to any more assumptions. Yeah, it could be exactly who he thought, but the knowledge from their last interaction still stung. Keith's  _ words _ said he didn't trust James, but his actions spoke larger volumes, and the last thing he needed was to feel the same devastating pain in his chest when Keith snubbed him once more.

Keith not only didn't trust him, he wanted nothing to do with him.

He stepped away from the window, resting his hands on wood around it and releasing a sigh. As much as he wanted to put up a shield, forget that Keith was standing outside his house, whether the other boy knew that at all, was it really right to ignore what was obviously a sound of inconvenience at the very best?

Was he that cruel of a person? Ready to leave someone in need high and dry in an attempt to protect his own personal feelings? Even Keith had butted in when someone cornered James with threats of violence. It was only right that James returned the favor.

Stepping over to his closet, he pulled a light jacket off the hanger and shrugged it on. No, his outfit wasn't his usual composed self, sporting a t-shirt and sweatpants in lieu of his normal wardrobe choices for leaving the house. But, it wasn't exactly like Keith was the pinnacle of professionalism himself either, and if Keith was expecting him to look like he was prepared for a brand new day already then that was his own issue.

He poked his head out from his bedroom door and scanned the hallway in front of him. The search for any source of light or noise was of the utmost importance when it came to tip toeing around his house after hours. Any movement that could result in a parent, especially his father having an inkling that he was still awake for any reason besides homework, was only going to start an argument he would rather avoid. And, if either of them knew he was leaving his room for anything but a chance to use the bathroom, there was going to be more than hell to pay. The tremor in his fingers could already sense it.

He padded down the staircase, acutely aware of each and every consequent creek from the wood beneath him. A million and a half excuses for his actions ran through his brain, about how he was only going downstairs for a glass of water, or that he was only planning to make a lunch for the next day so he didn't have to in the morning, anything that would disguise his true intentions for creeping around the house.

Pushing the back door open was like being able to breathe again. The hold on his windpipe was gone, leaving him open to use his lungs as intended and his heart able to slow its pace.

A few more steps and a turn around the corner brought it all back.

No. He couldn't just run up to Keith looking all desperate for his attention, especially not after their conversation in the courtyard. No, he had to look like this was an accident or something. He wasn't explicitly looking for Keith, no, he was just taking a lap around the house, or checking a noise outside his window that was all. He just had to play that part.

Tapping on his phone screen, he set the flashlight as high as possible and turned the corner again. He moved it between the side of the house and the ground in front of him. The one thing he needed less than Keith thinking he was too concerned about him was an animal getting pissed off when he took a wrong step and unleashing a wrath upon him.

With a few more steps, he laid his eyes upon Keith, and the other boy's eyes widened, his hand flying to a place by his hip as if he was a startled animal ready to strike.

"Keith?" James asked, feigning surprise as he lowered the light, "Is that you?"

A moment passed with nothing but the sounds of nature before Keith finally spoke, "Yeah."

"Is everything okay?"

Keith turned his gaze away from James and focused it back on the motorcycle between his legs. With a flick of his wrist, he stood waiting for a noise to follow the click but was only met with the dreaded silence that even James could pinpoint the cause of.

"Damn it!" Keith flicked his wrist again, getting nothing but a click once more.

James pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watching as Keith repeated the action again to no avail. He lifted his hand, gripping his other arm gently as he caught bits and pieces of the defeat crossing Keith's face. "Hey, um, I-I've got jumper cables."

"I'm fine." Keith swung his leg off the bike and pushed the kickstand up with his foot before bracing his hands on the handles. With an obvious effort, and muscles flexing under his skin, he pushed the bike from its previous position and attempted to roll it on the side of the road.

He fought the dryness from his mouth, "There's a hill up ahead. You're not going to make it up there," He pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, "And even if you do, you might trash your bike if you lose control when you're rolling it down."

"Rolling it down will charge the battery." Keith said flatly.

He could feel the frown creep onto his face, taking over his lips and settling in. "It's still a mile away."

"That's fine."

"Keith, look, I know you don't like me, and we don't have to talk anymore, but just let me help you." James cast his gaze down towards the old beat up road beneath them and away from Keith's inevitable rejection, "There's no point in rolling it for a whole mile when I can just help you jump it."

A silence fell between them, and James dared to peek up. Keith stared at his bike, bottom lip being chewed on mercilessly as he contemplated his options. Another few moments passed, and Keith finally spoke, voice falling quiet and losing the walls of defense from earlier, "Okay."

“Do you need help rolling your bike to the garage?”

“Where is it?” Keith asked, then continued when his eyes followed James’s finger, “No. I’ll be good.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back then.” He turned and took a few steps away before being stopped by Keith’s voice.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, um, the, uh, the cables are in the garage, but I don’t want to wake my parents.” He forced out ungracefully with a point of his thumb. Something about Keith threw all his poise out the window. He was no longer the calm, collected, and articulate kid that everyone else saw him as. No, when Keith stepped into the picture, he was suddenly the kid who was tongue-tied, tripping over his own feet, and bumbling his way through conversation. How someone could have such an effect on him was mind-boggling, and he was certain any other person would step away, but of course he was also more than prepared to listen to the little tiny voice in the back of his head over his logic, and that voice never stopped screaming for him to talk to Keith.

James swore under his breath. No one messed with him this badly since he was first interested in his ex-girlfriend.

He shook the thought away before it could expand. He needed to get the cables before Keith decided to fuck off and walk up the hill instead.

If James ever needed to restart his heart, he’d be sure to just walk into his parents’ house while they slept. It would probably be ten times more effective than any medical advancement considering that the damn thing was about to pop right out of his chest with every step from opening doors, to moving objects, to stubbing his toe on the table until he made it into the great outdoors once more.

He headed over towards Keith with a purpose to his step. The other boy remained partially squatted in front of his motorcycle, investigating something James could only guess with his phone flashlight before turning his head when the motion sensor light above turned on again.

“So, which one is yours?” Keith asked as he stood up straight.

James stopped a couple feet away from Keith. “What do you mean?”

“Which car is yours?” Keith repeated.

“Oh! Oh, none of them.” James gave a small shake of his head before continuing, “My parents would never get me a car.”

“Oh…” Keith shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, I just assumed…”

“No, yeah, it’s fine.” He held out half the cables to Keith, “Anyway. I don’t know how you do this with motorcycles, so you might want to lead.”

Keith stepped closer and took them into his hands. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly supposed to be jumping motorcycles with cars in the first place. But, the battery in this thing sucks anyway.”

“Oh, um, is there something else we could jump it with?” James asked, the words refusing to roll off his tongue without a wave of inadequacy about his own knowledge crawling up his spine.

“A motorcycle.” Keith said dryly, “But you don’t exactly peg me as the motorcycle type, so it’s whatever.” He moved over to his bike and attached one clamp to the battery and the other to the frame of the bike itself.

“Shouldn’t both of them be on the battery?” James asked, one hand waiting to push up the hood of his mother’s car.

“It could damage the battery more.”

The same insecurity crept over him again as he bit his lip and pushed up the hood. He promptly connected the cables to the battery, silently thanking his mother for never locking her vehicle, and took a step back before hopping into the driver’s seat. Something about it felt wrong, like a breach of trust. The only car he’d been behind the wheel of was the one the driving school supplied for his lessons when he was due for his learner’s permit, and the idea of not only sitting with the pedals so close to his feet in his mother’s car but preparing to stick the key in was a whole new territory.

He swallowed, forcing the thoughts down with it, and shoved the key in. With one bold flick of his wrist, he turned on the vehicle and waited for a matching sound next to him. When it came, he spared himself a look over at Keith. The other boy was sitting securely on the motorcycle as it hummed under him, a smile forming on his lips and strong muscles showing off where his sleeves ended as he reached for the handlebars. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he visually explored the rest of Keith’s body and posture, from the way his muscles flexed underneath his skin to the fit of his skinny jeans and the way the angle he sat emphasized certain parts below his belt. A motorcycle really was the perfect accessory for Keith.

Shutting off the car, he hopped down to the driveway and took a few steps towards Keith. Though, his actions were cut short by Keith’s sudden words.

“Um, thanks.” Keith flicked his eyes to the driveway before continuing, “Sorry for yelling at you. I guess you’re not as bad as I thought.”

He’d take that as a compliment. Probably the best he’d get right now anyway.

“It’s nothing.” He moved his hand up to push his bangs to the side absentmindedly. “I just hope maybe we can be—that we can get along.”

“I…” Keith pulled his bottom lip between his teeth briefly before looking back up at James in the limited light, “I think we can try.” He drummed his fingers against the helmet hanging off the handlebars. “Um, have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?”

It was an odd question, out of the blue and seemingly unrelated to anything in the previous conversation. Unless it was supposed to be about James’s inability to handle the vehicle without Keith’s help, though it should’ve been an obvious answer based on their very recent interactions.

James shook his head.

“Would you want to?”

“I mean, I’ve thought about it.” James confessed. It wasn’t a lie. He definitely had thought about it in the past, especially as Keith zoomed out of the school parking lot and he was left waiting for his ride to pick him up. But, it wasn’t like he was itching to have his own. Motorcycles were risky, reckless things that encompassed everything he wasn’t. People like him were meant to watch from the side as trailblazers like Keith faced grave possibilities head on. He had to set an example. Throwing caution to the wind was out of the question.

“I can take you for a ride.” Keith offered, shoulders hunching forward slightly, “You know, as a thanks… and an apology for being an asshole.”

His eyes flicked toward Keith with more excitement than he hoped showed in the darkness. “Oh? Are you sure?”

Keith shrugged. “Why not?”

“When?” He sunk his hands into his pockets and mentally ran through his upcoming schedule. If Keith wanted to give him a ride home after tutoring, it could work out, or if he stopped by after school on a day his mother wasn’t home yet, or—

“Now.” Keith said nonchalantly.

Or that. Or  _ now _ .

No. He couldn’t. There was no way he could responsibly accept the offer. He still had a mound of homework staring back at him whenever he sat at his desk. If he said yes, he’d never finish it before he had to leave for school.

“N-now?” James managed to force out, “I… I mean, I don’t know…”

Keith rolled eyes with a small smile pulling at the edge of his lips. “Why not? You want to.”

“I still have a lot of homework.” James admitted with a shameful sigh and a pointed look away.

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, and the beginnings of a smirk formed more clearly on his face, gorgeous purple eyes hosting a playful gaze. “Come on, don’t be such a nerd. Think of it as a break.”

He could. It wasn't like he really made room for any on his schedule that night in the first place, unless he was about to count the power nap he took earlier right when he got to his room.

Though, that didn't stop the looming threat of his parental figures finding out that he was even outside—no, even  _ awake _ —right now. One misstep, and he was in for much more than a simple grounding.

But, on the other hand, it wasn't like he wasn't absolutely itching for a few moments of normal social interaction without his parents hovering over him that didn't include schoolwork. No, if anything he was akin to a bird. Behind bars and begging to be released so he could spread his wings and take to the sky, yet every moment inside and obeying led him no closer to his goal. If anything, it just molded him further into the picture perfect pet, becoming nothing but what those around him insisted he be.

And Keith, the same Keith who managed to find no guilt in straying off the path laid out for him, held the key in front of him, not a second thought given to turning the lock. No, Keith had already opened the door, he was just waiting for James to step out.

Was James really about to tell him no?

"Okay." He forced out, heart thundering in his chest almost over the sounds around him, "But, not for super long."

Keith let his lips finally bloom into a full slightly cocky smirk, and he tossed him the helmet hanging off his bike. He swung his leg over it and waited for the other boy to come closer. "Just tell me when you want to get back, and I'll take you."

He stared at the object in his hands. It looked similar to the helmet his mother always insisted he wear when they visited his cousins in Colorado, and they took the four-wheeler around the mountains, though it had a prominent piece of tinted glass that sealed the space between the forehead and chin much more protectively. With a small glance up, he asked, "Aren't you going to wear one?"

"I've been on bikes since I was a kid. I'll be fine."

"What if something happens? You'd get really hurt." He protested.

Keith waved his hand dismissively, "There's barely anyone on the roads. We'll be fine."

"What if you get caught?" James continued, "I mean, there could—"

Keith's eyes flicked down to where James securely held the helmet, then back up at him. With a softened look, he replied, "Okay. How about this? I'll just take you somewhere, so we're not on the road as long. You still get to see what it's like, but it's also more than just a quick ride around the block. Would that make you feel any better?"

James nodded. "But is anywhere even open?"

"Let me worry about where we're going, okay? I'm driving." Keith shifted his position slightly, getting a better footing on both sides of the bike. Though, it wasn't exactly something that didn't make sense. Keith  _ was _ a tad short for someone their age, and the bike was definitely not mass produced with teenagers in mind.

"Alright." He lifted up the helmet and sunk it down around his head. Mimicking Keith's earlier motions, he swung a single leg over the bike and glanced around for something to secure himself with. "Um, where am I supposed to hold on?"

"To me." Keith said, stifling a small laugh.

"To—to  _ you _ ?" James repeated with wide eyes, a new batch of nerves exploding within him.

Keith flinched, retracting his hands from the handlebars and his shoulders flying upwards. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't think. If you're uncomfortable with that, or um, me, you don't have to come. I get it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No!" James interjected, "That's not it at all. I promise." Did Keith really think that James was uncomfortable with him being into guys? It wasn't like it was the make or break of someone's character, not at all. In fact, if Keith was anything to go by, it really didn't change if he was a good or bad person in the end. Only his actions did that.

Did other people think differently though? Yeah, it wasn't like James could exactly praise his town for being the most tolerant place, but he was seriously beginning to wonder if trading his old popularity in sports for his small group of close friends really had left him in a small tolerant bubble.

Keith relaxed his stance slightly, voice coming out softer than before, "Are you sure? You can tell me."

"No, no. I'm sure. I just, I thought there'd be something to hold on the bike. I've been off-roading with my cousins in the mountains, and the four-wheeler has a set of handles."

"Oh." Keith visibly relaxed further, hands returning to the handlebars and shoulders falling and losing the resemblance of a cat ready to pounce. "Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you're okay with that. People sometimes get weird about me liking guys, and I didn't think you were, ‘cause you seemed pretty decent knowing that so far, but sometimes you don't find out until later and I... sometimes you just have to protect yourself too." Keith paused then continued, "Sorry. I don't know if that'll make sense to you either. But, just... people are real assholes sometimes."

"It's fine. I get it. Not the same, but like, yeah." James answered before leaning back and surveying Keith's body. He let his eyes roam from his shoulders to his backside, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the lowest parts more than once. Holding out his hands, he quickly ran through the possible ways to hold onto the boy in front of him. Would wrapping his arms around his chest be too much? Or would he be better off holding onto Keith's waist? But, would that not be enough to keep him secure without leaning into Keith an amount that could possibly be uncomfortable for him? Maybe the belt loops of Keith's pants? No. Something about touching the hem top of Keith's jeans seemed like he was crossing some sort of boundary that he was forbidden from getting too close to.

"My waist is fine." Keith said, although his voice still seemed to be a bit tentative with his words.

"Tell me if you um, want me to hold somewhere else, okay?" James replied. If Keith was going to worry about his comfort, it was only right that he worried back. With a surge of courage, he moved forward and slipped his arms around Keith's waist, attempting to keep a small amount of distance between their bodies. Why was this so hard? When he was playing baseball, the team would all roughhouse and shove each other around in a friendly manner. Hell, some of them were even very in touch with their want for platonic affection with their pals. So, why was this different now? Why was he so careful to not touch Keith too much even with the other boy's explicit permission? Yeah, it was a tad different since him and Keith weren't exactly super close, but the fact that he was denying himself from his want to hold Keith closer even now was still there.

Wait.

He  _ wanted _ to be closer.

Yeah, he wanted to be close with his friends, but why was this suddenly so different? Why did he want to be so physically close to Keith? Why was he telling himself no?

"You good to go?" Keith asked, turning his head back slightly to check on James. “Uh, yeah.” James forced out as he fought his fingers from scrambling to find an extra place to hook before the inevitable movement happened.

“Alright.” Keith flashed him a small smile before turning his head back to focus on the bike. “If you want to stop you can just… um, punch my stomach I guess?”

Nodding in acknowledgment was the last thing he remembered before they were on the dark roads going faster than James anticipated. The world around him slowly came into vision as his eyes adjusted to the new unlit backroads, the scenery an explosion of blurry leaves, trees, and fields as they passed it. Somehow, despite the insistent thundering in his chest and shaking hands, it was nice, calming and thrilling all at once. There was something about disobeying his parents and doing what he wanted for once that felt so different, so oddly calming.

Freeing.

Yeah, the anxiety that bubbled under his skin and forced small movements from his hands and forced him to swallow to keep it from peaking out didn’t fade. No. But, it didn’t ruin the rush that pleasantly swept over him as he realized he was holding onto Keith as they zoomed past the rest of the world like it was only the two of them. The wind that crashed across his exposed skin and the strands of Keith’s hair that flew back with the momentum only emphasized it, a living embodiment of his emotions. Hitting a winning home run, getting a perfect score on a test, winning an award, none of it compared to right here, right now.

In retrospect, the idea seemed a tad silly. That a simple ride on a motorcycle could be so amazing and beat out the things he worked his ass off for, but there was just something about holding onto Keith, the boy who constantly stepped off the trail, and following him into the night that felt better than any of it. Those things were just the things he could do in a cage, the things that were allowed within rules that weren’t his own. Out here, the choices he made had no boundaries. No outside force telling him what box he had to stay in or where the world ended for him, just the other side of the bars granting him the freedom to do what he wanted for once, to not have the pressure of holding up an image on his shoulders.

The bike slowed gently to a halt, though something told James if he hadn’t been accompanying Keith that same movement would’ve been much more dramatic, and Keith swung his leg at the kickstand beneath them. Bracing his weight on either side, he glanced back at James and tapped at his hands where they interlocked. “We’re here.”

Carefully making his way back onto the sweet, sweet solid ground he waited for Keith to join him before wiggling the helmet off his head and handing it back.

"Thanks." Keith hung it on the handlebar and shoved the keys in his pocket before stepping forward towards the foliage and confidently grabbing a handful of branches. Pushing them to the side, he stepped through, ignoring the way the whole set up seemed to be nature's own attempt at a fence, something to keep outsiders out. Though, Keith didn't seem to be too much of an outsider based on how he found no trouble navigating through it all in the darkness. Turning his head back, he checked to assure that the other boy was still behind him, "Come on. Trust me."

He checked on the battle in his head briefly before pushing the soldiers fighting on the side of his anxiety back. He could let them take over again, panic in front of Keith, and ruin any shot he had at reclaiming any sort of independence in his own life, or he could assert that he was in charge before he let the stupid waves of unneeded horror wash over him and consume his brain.

With one step forward, he solidified the choice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe James's whole life had worked on assumptions, pretending that he already knew everything he needed to know. Yet, somehow, Keith seemed to be determined to prove him wrong without even trying. And that? Well, that had an oddity of breaking a mold that never failed to pull James closer. 
> 
> Even if he didn't want it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to be posting another chapter! I really enjoyed writing this scene (and the half of it that was in last chapter), so I hope that you all get some joy out of reading it <3
> 
> Heads up for a content warning of discussions of homophobia and home/family issues in this chapter.

The new scenery was admittedly difficult to make out with the beginning of this new trek. It was almost as if Keith was some sort of cat, eyes able to make out details in the darkness that others would never have a hope of noticing. Did he leave the house often at night? Did he come to this spot often? Was that why he was able to fit in like a missing puzzle piece?

Maybe Keith wasn't so crazy for straying away from the crowd so often in the first place.

No, it wasn't as if James didn't understand how society worked, one cog working with another, all bland and just another number with an expectation to meet. But, there was just something so calming to know that Keith could fall so out of line with the whole concept of being what society wanted from him and still find a place he seemed to fit without forcing himself. Maybe Keith's people just weren't this town. Maybe they were out there somewhere else away from the close-knit community James forced himself into so often aside from his three close friends.

Maybe James had more people out there somewhere too.

"Careful, there's a group of sticker bushes to the left." Keith said before slightly altering his path and lifting up a large hanging branch above his head. He stepped under it and then to the side as he waited for James, not letting it fall until the other boy made it past and settled his feet onto the leafy ground beneath him.

The darkness they'd experienced the entire journey dissipated, making way for the remnants of the moonlight that attempted to fight the night. The small clearing featured short but overgrown grass, small patches of dirt, and a fallen tree that cut it almost in half. A tree stump stood its ground nearby a few feet away, and a large puddle that could pass for a pond remained at the other end.

He followed further as Keith stepped towards the dead and fallen tree, moss and whatever else could be hiding in the wood not perturbing him as the other boy took a seat on the ground and leaned against it.

Following suit, James took a much more calculated seat, passing up the ground and whatever might be calling the fallen tree home for the stump. He planted his foot on it briefly, then moved it twice to the side to brush off what he possibly couldn't make out in the dark before plopping himself down on it and facing Keith.

The sounds of nature surrounded them, neither of them bothering to speak. There was something so nice, so calming, about the area. It was as if the world became nothing besides what they could see in front of them, the woods sealing them in voluntarily and protecting them from the never ending stress that dared to eat at them constantly. Fresh air, the sweet smell of grass and earth, it all tied together to make the perfect escape.

Even if they had to inevitably leave sooner than later.

The flick of a lighter illuminated the area by Keith's face once, then again, then remained lit the third time. He moved it slightly, leaning it towards his face as he concentrated, then let it disappear again only to leave the cherry red of a cigarette in its wake. It moved as Keith took a drag and again once he exhaled, the surprisingly familiar stench filling the air around them. For as negative a connotation that cigarettes and the smell they emitted had, there was beginning to be an odd association between it and waning anxiety. He'd never touched one in his life, and he never planned to, but even with the amount of things he heard about how they were a coping mechanism to relax or that they helped people in other ways mentally, it never crossed his mind that _he_ would be making those associations. Especially not now.

But, he had to admit, the fact that the faint version of that smell usually meant Keith was around was at least a pleasant way to form that connection.

He reached into his pocket, daring to pull out his phone but opting to keep the majority of it in his pocket as he attempted to check on the time. With one glance, he found his eyes blinded by the light and facing the bottom of the screen, positioned with an inability to peek at the time. Slipping it out completely, he contemplated raising it to check, then slipped it back into the confines of his sweatpants. Something felt wrong about disrupting the moment with the blaring light of a cell phone, as if he was ruining the quaint aura the clearing was freely giving him. Honestly, it almost felt rude that he even considered it as he glanced over at Keith, purple eyes focused on the sky above as he only worried about keeping the white stick in his fingers away from the flammable objects around him.

Did Keith spend his nights here? Was this his secret little place he used to get away from the world around him when things became too much? How often was that feeling overcoming him?

The sounds of nature, bugs chirping and the breeze running through the leaves, still surrounded them. They were nice, calming, but the back of his brain nagged him to start conversation. Yeah, it seemed comfortable, sitting in silence, but there was something about sitting so close to Keith, after he was so kind to take him around on his bike and into the woods, that made the need for an exchange of words eat at him. What was Keith thinking about as he gazed above him? Or when he came to this spot in general? Was there a reason he came here in the first place? Did he have other spots like it?

His brain begged, pleaded with him to scratch the itch, to break the silence and speak. To ask the questions churning in his head. This was his chance to have a conversation away from the restricting walls of school. There was no social status to mind here, no grades to desperately strive for, no math problems for them to go over for no reason but to show. It was an empty space where they could write their own rules.

Or have none.

He fought the sudden constricting feeling sliding around his throat. He was going to say something. Letting his brain play games with him would only lead to a million what ifs and wonders about what could've been for the next few days. The only way to settle it was to speak. He had to speak.

Oh shit, he had to speak.

"Hey, Keith," He finally said, voice almost failing to carry any strength in his words.

Well, that was a bit of a pathetic start.

The other boy tilted his head down, shifting his focus to James. "Hm?"

Fuck, what was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to ask? He didn't plan this at all. Fuck.

He just had to say something. Anything. It didn't matter. It could be generic as hell. It didn't matter, it just had to be conversation.

He forced out his next words, throwing out whatever crossed his brain without a second thought, "So, um, what were you doing out this late anyway?"

Okay, could have been better. Still not the worst thing he'd impulsively asked someone.

"Why's that your business?" Keith retorted harshly.

Scratch that. This interaction was officially dropping down to his list of worst questions asked. New addition to his ever growing number of tips for talking with Keith: Normal generic questions were never the way to go.

"I don't know. I just don't know what there really is to do at this hour for a teen." James replied, attempting with his whole social skillet to save the deteriorating conversation, "I mean, aren't your parents going to be wondering where you are?"

Keith scoffed, cigarette waving away from his face, "You mean my aunt and uncle? Bastards wouldn't even notice if i was gone for a whole week. They don't give half a shit about me."

A pain shot through his chest, thoughts circling the new information. Was Keith being serious? He could've been dramatic, letting the words go with large hyperboles in that way adults have always said teens do. And in truth, there was some validity to the statement, but of all things in his life, he also knew that there was always a chance that the words were from a place of real genuine pain. If anything, more often than not it was, at least in his own case. Though, who was he to determine whether or not Keith’s suffering was unfeigned without walking in Keith’s shoes? He’d done it before, so had his parents, but it didn’t mean he needed to continue being that person.

"Oh, I didn't... do they at least act like parents a little bit?"

Keith shot him an incredulous look, "What about any of that made you think they would?" He took a drag from his cigarette, much more anger emitting from the action than the previous ones, "Assholes literally only see me as a paycheck."

What was he supposed to say? There was nothing comforting that could roll off his tongue with ease and familiarity, and even if such a response existed, it wasn't as if Keith would likely appreciate James stepping that close to him. "Sorry..." he uttered.

Keith bit his bottom lip, eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing. "Yeah, well it's not like your life can be perfect!" He waved his cigarette around as he snapped, "Star baseball player and honor student, popular, teacher's pet. Now you're just a nerd and a hermit. What the hell is your story?"

The response left his mouth before he could process it, oozing with sarcasm and laced with a bit too much venom for his liking, "What are you talking about? My life’s amazing. Obviously. Parents who watch you like a hawk, tell you what activities you’re allowed to do, because they want you to do them; never sleeping, because you’re having panic attacks every night. It’s great!"

Keith flinched back, shoulders tensing and eyes filling with regret. Yet, somehow the instantaneous but silent acknowledgement stood no chance at stopping James's words.

Maybe he really was an asshole.

"But, how are you supposed to know that when all you've been able to do is make a bunch of assumptions about me?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "I stopped a long ass time ago, and you're still out here pretending like you know everything about me."

Keith spoke, though the words failed to reach James, only managing to express themselves as a mutter.

"What?" He asked, nostrils flared and voice still managing to carry the negative emotions he mentally scolded himself for.

"I said I'm sorry." Keith repeated with an emphasis on the last two words. He sat up and pulled his knees closer to his chest. "If you hate me, I get it."

"Hate you?" James sent him a disbelieving look. "Where the hell did you get that from?"

"You spent forever thinking I'm nothing but a future jailbird. Why am I supposed to suddenly believe you think any different? Hell, even your parents despise me." Keith snapped.

"And I said I stopped thinking that. Why is _that_ so hard to believe?" James shot back.

"Because _no one_ wants to be my friend! Everyone hates me! I don't get why you don't too!" Keith rested his arms on his knees, then laid his forehead on them. "Why can't you just make this easy?"

James only dared to speak his next words quietly, as if he was treading an unknown land. Though, in some retrospects, it was. For all the time he spent with Keith in the last few weeks, none of it ever revolved around Keith's personal feelings, only the assumptions James could make about them from his actions. In the end, Keith's life, his emotions, were hidden behind layers of walls James hadn't managed to get through yet. "Hasn't anyone ever tried to be your friend before?"

"A few. Only one person really meant it." Keith's eyes dropped to the cherry of his cigarette, following the light as he waved it back and forth distractedly.

He relaxed his body, dropping his elbows onto his thighs and holding his head in his hands. "How do you know I couldn't be the second?"

"And I'm supposed to take that risk because?"

"Because how are you supposed to make any new friends if you don't let anyone have a chance?"

"So, I'm supposed to just let any old person waltz into my life, even though that's how I got into this whole situation in the first place? Yeah, no thanks. Nice try." Keith punctuated the statement with a drag of his cigarette.

"Look, I stood up for you when you were going to get blamed for being bullied. And, you know it wasn't some bullshit coverup, because they seriously wanted to beat me up for it. I'm going to be honest with you. If I didn't want to be friends, I would've given up a while ago. Remember, I went from popular jock to hermit nerd. I don't really have the same ground to stand on that you think I do."

"Yeah? So? Doesn't mean that you couldn't."

"If I was caught causing trouble, I'd be in for it. My dad cares way too much about making sure he has a straight A, perfect son. Not a lot of room in there for gossip about how I'm picking on some kid at school."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm also not exactly the most well liked guy around here. I can't even promise you they'd particularly care."

"Keith," James sighed, "I don't know what it's going to take for you to believe me. But, I want you to." He flicked his eyes down, then back up at Keith, "I don't think you're the same person I misjudged you as, and I want to get to know who you actually are, because you seem a lot better than that. But, if you really don't want me as a friend, I get it. I didn't help you tonight because I thought I'd get something out of it though, and I know you took me out on a ride tonight to be nice too." When Keith failed to respond, he continued, "I'll leave you alone if you want. But, just know I'm serious about wanting to be friends."

Keith dropped his head back into the space between his chest and knees. The same sounds from earlier filled the space between them, but somehow, letting their conversation die and allowing nature to take over was not as comforting this time around.

"Why?" The words left Keith's mouth suddenly and without warning, the other boy's body refusing to move.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to be my friend?" Keith clarified.

James pulled one foot away from the ground and lifted up his leg, bending it in the process. Pressing the bottom of his shoe against his thigh, he wrapped his fingers around his ankle as he spoke, "I told you. I think there's a lot more to you than everyone says.”

Keith lifted his head slowly, then drummed his fingers against his other arm as he refused to meet James's gaze. With a quiet voice, he said, "Are you still going to say that when people start assuming things about you?"

He tightened his fingers around his ankle, praying that his face didn't betray him. Keith had a point. James had already found himself face to face with a homophobe who felt the need to express his unneeded opinions, one who didn't care about James's or Keith's well being. Did he really need another reason that people were going to speak about him in such a manner? Did he need a reason that said information was going to get around back to his parents?

Why was he thinking about it? It wasn't as if he was genuinely into guys like Keith was. Yeah, maybe he thought some were attractive, but it couldn't be anything like what Keith was experiencing, right? Keith wanted to kiss other boys, hold the hand of another boy, end up with a guy for the rest of his life. It wasn't like James wanted that too, right? He might've wanted to spend more and more time with Keith, get closer to him, and reflect on their interactions each day, but none of that could be equivalent to Keith's experience. No, James's feelings were much different.

What were his feelings anyway? He wanted to be Keith's friend, right? To see him more, get to know him, and go places with him outside of school. Those were all the qualities of a normal casual friendship, and that's what James wanted. Besides, it looked like Keith needed one anyway. If no one was going to show him any sort of affection, James could take it upon himself.

He wasn't into guys, no, he just wanted to be a good friend to someone who really needed one. What did it matter if there were a few rumors thrown around about him? He had the ability to dispute them after all. Things with his ex may have not ended perfectly, but she was proof he was into girls, right?

"They can assume things. It doesn't make them true." He finally answered, "I think you need to stop worrying about protecting everyone else and remember to take care of yourself at some point."

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it. A few moments later, he silenced his own statement for good with a drag. The rustling of leaves sounded between them, and Keith dared to restart the conversation, "Come here."

James quirked an eyebrow.

Keith rolled his eyes, though the action lacked any malice. He waved James over and repeated himself, "Come here."

He rose to his feet and stepped closer to Keith. Settling himself down to the ground, despite his brain's warnings of having to explain away the dirt later on, he made sure he was a comfortable distance away from Keith before letting himself relax. He couldn't let Keith think he was being odd, even if he was attempting to start a friendship.

Keith rested the hand with his cigarette back against the dead tree and raised the other up, pointing into the sky. "If you sit here, the trees open up, and you can see the stars. And it's far away enough from town that you don't have to worry about any lights either."

He tilted his head back, leaning his arms back on the dead tree for support as he remained still. A canopy of tree branches and leaves covered the area except for the small patch directly above them. Where they parted revealed the darkness James expected, but the fabric of the view was interwoven with the immaculate picture of twinkling stars, like a painting with subtle mixes of dark colors and a finish of liberally flicked on white spots.

Could Keith paint something like that? Did he paint the things he saw here in general? Something about the idea of Keith sitting and glancing up above him in between brushstrokes was so calming.

He fought the smile that threatened to bloom on his face. Keith didn’t need to know he was thinking about him, not when this was the closest to being let in James had gotten. He opted for extending the conversation instead.

“Do you like space stuff?” James asked earnestly. There had to be something besides chance that drew Keith to this particular part of the forest. There were waterfalls and creeks in the area, too. James had seen them himself when him and Ina would go on youth group hikes in middle school, but Keith knew the spot and where to sit too well for mere coincidence.

“Oh,” Keith blinked quickly as he paused. His expression softened, and his eyes flicked away with the second sentence, “um, yeah. I do.”

“That’s cool.” James replied. He brought one knee towards his chest and wrapped his fingers around his shin absentmindedly, "Any reason?"

Keith shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't care too much about it until my friend Shiro took me camping once when I was having a rough time, and he spent all night pointing out constellations. He's an astrophysics major, so it's his thing. But, it's just calming to look for the different stars sometimes." He paused, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before adding, "You have anxiety, right? You get it?"

Keith wasn't wrong. No. In fact, he was far from it. While James had never considered something as isolating as nature to be his calming place, he could only assume it was similar to his own coping mechanisms. How he was happier when he was able to distract his thoughts with baseball or how reading a book could occasionally quell the anxiety within by bringing him to a different, fictitious world. Nature was Keith's athletics, his time spent reading years ago.

"Yeah. I do." James replied, "I guess it's similar to sports or reading for me."

Keith turned his head towards James fully, then away partially before answering, "Then why'd you quit?"

"I..." His voice trailed off as he raked his brain for an explanation. There had to be something he could tell Keith that wasn't going to give away the whole image he was living in. All anyone needed to see of the picture was what the frame left visible, anything under was something he needed to keep to himself. Everything traveled too far too fast in town. One mess up, and he was destined for a heap of trouble.

But, was it really that bad if he opened up to Keith a little? It wasn't as if he had the social connections to make any sort of impact by telling someone what James disclosed. After all, Keith's interactions with others often seemed to be people antagonizing him for who he was instead of any attempt to be friendly, and he didn't seem to be interested in flipping that script.

He sighed, eyelids falling closed for a moment before he finally gave his answer, "My parents wanted me to. They think it's a bad look if I got into college for sports instead of grades."

Keith tapped the ashes off the end of his cigarette. "They know that it'll look better on college apps if you actually do things besides study, right?"

"I mean, I _do_ do some other things. I help with my dad's campaigning and with my mom's church stuff. Volunteer work has to count for something, right?" James pointed out, "I was in a youth group until last year too."

"Oh yeah, you're a church boy." Keith said. The words didn't really have malice to them, nor annoyance. They were just apathetic, almost as if he was talking to himself, "Your mom knows my aunt."

"Doesn't everyone know each other in this town?" James shrugged, exposing his palms with the motion.

"I don't exactly have friends, so I can't say I'd know besides for how fast gossip spreads here." Keith took a drag of his cigarette. "Why do you want to hang out with me so bad anyway? You know I'm gay. Shouldn't that be enough for your church boy self to steer clear?"

James shot him an incredulous look. "Did I ever come off like I cared if you kiss boys? I—" He stopped himself. What was he going to say? That he thought about it too sometimes? That he sometimes also thought boys were attractive? That he'd questioned his own sexuality before and decided to throw the thoughts out the window before he could dwell on them while pretending the idea had no validity?

There was too much at stake for such a careless remark. Besides, it wasn't like he was really attracted to guys. A little curiosity was normal, right? Acting like he was seriously into guys would just be an insult to those who were, and with everything he had seen Keith deal with since they'd gotten closer, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He settled on his next words instead, "I don't get why everyone's so pressed."

Keith pressed his lips into a thin line. With a small shake of his head, he said, "I'll give you that. Honestly, you seemed too horrified by what those two assholes did to all my notes to come off like a real homophobe." He tilted his head back up at the sky, "Still think hanging around me is going to bring you problems, though."

"I can make my own decisions about who I want to hang out with."

"Never said you couldn't. Just that you didn't know what came with it this time."

"Well, I still think you're still too nice to me for you to really want me to go away."

Keith shrugged. "You're stubborn enough. It doesn't make a difference."

His fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, playing with the fabric as silence occupied the space between them again. Would Keith still talk to him after tonight? Or would they be back to the same forcible distance that Keith insisted on? Wall after wall of excuses and attitude to keep James away surely hadn't worked if they were still talking and hanging out together now, even if the moment was just a fluke, caused by nothing but a dead battery and James's constant studying. Though, it didn't mean that they weren't also destined to stay at an emotional distance after all was said and done tonight.

There were still thoughts that floated in the back of his head, ones about Keith's previous actions that never fell into place. How he never did his homework but completed the entire lab report for nothing in return, yet never wanted any credit for his efforts either, or how he still chose James as his tutor everyday despite his faux animosity towards him.

Or even why in the world Keith brought him to such a secluded spot that had to be one of his private places.

The impulse to ask bubbled, attempting to force its way out of his mouth the same way all his worst situations always started. How the same sense of dread always washed over him after speaking and kept him constantly playing the feedback loop in his head for hours after.

And worst of all, the same thing that always got him unable to bite his tongue when he needed to.

"So," He scraped his teeth over the skin of his bottom lip, "can I ask you something?"

"Maybe." Keith replied instantaneously, "Depends on what it is."

He swallowed, though whether it was a physical need or just a way to convince himself, he disposed of the possible anxieties and forced out, "Why did you bring me here?"

Keith quirked an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"You know, we're not exactly close, and you brought me somewhere that's obviously at least kind of personal." James answered, "I just... want to know why?"

"Oh... I don't know." Keith's eyes moved to the ground. "I guess you just seemed kind of stressed. I would've just bought you a book or something if I knew you liked to read."

Were the words true? That all of their time tonight was solely because Keith read through him and noticed the stress that often dominated him?

"Sorry." Keith turned his head away. "I didn't mean for that to be weird. I'm not exactly good at wording things."

"No! No, it wasn't!" James exclaimed frantically, hands shooting up in front of him. The last thing he needed was for Keith to recede after this moment was over and for him to pretend none of this meant anything to either of them. Especially if it was all caused by nothing but Keith's own flawed self perception of his words. "I promise."

"Okay." Keith replied, muscles relaxing even if his voice still didn't carry the same feeling, "Sorry," he prefaced again, "Being friends with straight guys isn't exactly my normal. Usually, they think I'm trying to hit on them or something, so I usually have to be some sort of an asshole." He paused his words for a drag from his cigarette, "It's complicated."

"Oh, I didn't realize." Was that what kept Keith so hostile towards others? That his kindness was taken out of context and used to fuel the bullying that hurt him? Was Keith truly damned if he did and damned if he didn't? Kindness only made it worse, and hostility only made him seem like the horrid image of a person that others around town had conjured about him.

There was no winning for him, was there?

"It's fine." Keith assured, though the words seemed more empty than James hoped, "Just need to make it to eighteen."

"I'm still sorry it's like that."

Keith shrugged.

"Can..." He restarted the sentence stronger, "Can I ask you something else too?"

"Same as before. Depends on what it is."

"I want to know about the lab report." James stated.

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly looking away but carrying no venom in his voice, "What about it?"

His expression softened. Yes, he wanted answers, but not at the expense of Keith's emotional well-being. Even if Keith never gave the answers he was searching for, he'd be okay if it meant he wasn't the cause of one of Keith's erecting walls or sudden emotional defections.

He still wanted answers, but he could be more tactful about it than barging in without a thought about how taxing randomly explaining his motivations was at times. After all, Keith was another person, even if countless people in their town tended to forget the fact.

He lowered his voice, losing any and all demand from his tone, "I want to know why you did the whole thing when you never do your homework, and don't make up some lie about how you actually do your homework, because I'm your tutor, and I know you don't. I want to know why you were so upset by me handing in your work."

Keith stayed silent, eyes still staying glued to the ground.

"You don't have to give me an answer if you don't want to." James assured.

Keith let out a sigh, head leaning down and his arms wrapping around his bent legs, “I don’t know. You seemed really tired.” When James failed to say anything in response, he added, “I know everyone thinks I’m a big asshole, but I’m not going to make someone’s life harder on purpose.”

“You could’ve just done half of it.” James turned his body to face Keith’s, “I would’ve done my half. You know that.” Technically the statement was a lie. He hadn’t actually finished his half of the report that night. But, Keith didn’t need to know that, especially when it had nothing to do with the other boy’s actions.

“I can’t do something nice? You’re nice everyday by putting up with me. I was just—”

The words left his mouth before his brain could process them, cutting Keith off, “Do you really think I’m _putting up_ with you?”

There was no way Keith could actually believe that, right? It had to be a ton of steam, just letting out over the top feelings, not a serious feeling that came from way too deep within him.

Was it his fault? Had he made Keith feel like some sort of burden? Was he too harsh with his comments still?

Did the person he used to be still haunt Keith?

The silence was deafening. He mentally pleaded with Keith to speak but didn’t dare to vocalize the thoughts; he knew better than to push him. How could Keith really feel that way?

How could he fix it?

Keith turned his gaze towards him, lips pressed into a thin line and eyebrows furrowed for a split second before he erased it off his face. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he pushed himself up as he exhaled. “I should bring you home before your parents realize you left.”

A pain shot through his chest. How could Keith only see him as only putting up with him? Even after approaching him outside of tutoring in attempts to talk? Did Keith really think everything he did was all out of pity?

He rose to his feet, following Keith and letting him gently grip his wrist as he guided him through the brush they navigated earlier.

No. Keith’s statement wasn’t an attack on James or any way that he had treated him. If it was anything, it was an attack on himself. He had no issue with the way James interacted with him, it all laid in the way that Keith viewed himself.

He wasn’t sure which hurt more though. Or how someone as amazing as Keith, who had more artistic talent in his pinky than most people had in their whole bodies and had the smarts to compliment it, who made James want to improve himself and the person he was, could ever see himself as someone others only put up with.

Though, to be fair, with the way he’d seen his classmates treat Keith, he wasn’t surprised. If he was the class pariah, his self-esteem would be in the gutter too.

He stepped onto the overgrown grass on the side of the road, out from the small tangle of trees and bushes that previously separated them from the outside world just moments earlier, and he mourned the new lack of contact on his wrist as Keith dug into his pocket for his keys. Watching Keith spin the keyring around his index finger, he sank the helmet over his head and waited until Keith finally mounted the bike before following in his actions. He reached out, hands hovering over Keith's waist briefly. Something still felt wrong, as if he wasn't allowed to touch Keith despite the calling of his brain to do so. His friends on the baseball team had no issues touching each other platonically, him and Ryan were no different. So, why was it so hard to just hold onto Keith when all the action was supposed to do was ground him so he didn't meet a bloody death on the road?

He dug his teeth into his bottom lip as he moved to make contact with Keith's waist, thumbs hooking onto the other man's belt loops. It was fine. All it was was a way to stay on the bike.

"You know, I'd feel better if you were actually holding onto me. Grabbing my pants isn't always going to keep you on very well." Keith said as he started the engine.

Shit. Okay, it would be fine. He just had to ask.

"Oh, um, where?"

Why was this so difficult? There had to be a reason behind it. Something that made him acutely aware of his each and every interaction with Keith. Especially if Keith really did feel as if James was doing nothing but putting up with him. As if he didn't care about him at all besides his need to pretend he was a halfway decent person.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just nervous about Keith's perception of him, that he would think he was a creep, and it would ruin his image as the perfect guy that everyone was supposed to want to be.

Yeah. That had to be it. It was just his image issues kicking in.

"My waist is fine." Keith answered, "I promise it's fine."

Hesitantly, he slid his hands up over the curve of Keith's hips, settling on his waist and awaiting some sort of approval.

With a gentle hand, Keith pulled each hand closer to his front one by one until they laid on top of each other. "I know I let you hold on loosely before, but I would prefer if you didn't die."

"Sorry." He mumbled.

"It's fine." Keith swung his leg at the kickstand, "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but again, don't want you to die."

A new breeze set over them both as Keith guided them through the same backroads from before. In retrospect, maybe Keith only took him someplace so close to him, because he knew he could never remember how to get back, not when it was still at least an hour or two until the sun would rise, and Keith drove too fast to memorize the route.

He pushed the thoughts away in favor of the moment, the way the air engulfed him, the calmness of the night, and the warmth where his arms met Keith's body. There was something about it, how close the action felt despite knowing the reasoning, that forced a smile to break out onto his face. If he was a bolder man, one unafraid of the consequences of his actions and how things might look, he would have taken the risk and leaned in closer. Besides, it wasn't like Keith came off as the type who couldn't use a hug. In fact, if anything, it looked like he desperately needed one.

No. He needed to get over those thoughts. His impulses were only going to get him in trouble. Besides, it wasn't like those thoughts had a place between the two of them. Keith obviously didn't think of them as close, and it wasn't James's place to force him to think otherwise.

For the amount of acting he did, he wouldn't trust himself either.

Keith turned a familiar corner, slowing his speed gradually and stopping completely in front of James's house. With a swing at the kickstand, he let it loose and turned off the engine.

He swung a leg over the bike and stepped onto the lawn. Pulling the helmet off, he waited for Keith to dismount before handing it back. His hand rose to his face and brushed his bangs back briefly as the nearby streetlight gave him an opportunity to view the true state of disarray Keith's hair was in. Though, in all fairness, it was rather suiting. Something about the messy, wind-tangled locks spoke volumes about the type of person Keith seemed to be. Someone with jagged and rough edges, never truly letting himself fray despite the abuse the world threw at him. It was admirable, even if Keith didn't want to see it.

A smile plastered itself on his face. Somehow, the mound of homework really didn't bother him.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. It still crept around in the back of his mind, though the same force that was pushing him towards panic earlier ceased to exist.

"Thanks for taking me there." He said, failing to wipe the smile off his face, "It really did help."

Keith tore his gaze away from his helmet and towards James as the words hit his ears. Wide eyes met James's vision before Keith's face relaxed and his gaze softened. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, "Oh. Um, no problem. I'm glad it worked."

A small heat hit his cheeks as Keith's face kept the smile. Whoever Keith's future boyfriend was was a seriously lucky guy.

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "You know, you might want to brush your hair when you get home. Shame if you grew it out so long just for it to get tangled."

Keith's free fingers flew up to his locks, roughly running through them.

God, he wanted to do that.

He balled his hands into fists where they hid underneath the fabric of his pants. That was too far. He wouldn't appreciate someone doing that to him, he shouldn't entertain doing it to someone else.

"Well," Keith crossed his arms over his chest, smile morphing into a smirk, "You're not looking your best either, helmet hair."

He threw his hands into his hair, attempting to flatten and tame whatever parts of the strands that had gotten disheveled.

The smirk faded, eyes moving towards James's front door. "You should probably get inside before they notice."

"Oh..." His gaze flicked to the ground and then back to Keith, "Yeah, you're right. Well, thanks again."

“Um, wait.” Keith shuffled around on his feet, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he pressed his lips into a thin line. Swinging around towards his bike, he leaned closer to it and pulled something out of his pocket. With a turn towards James, he reached out, gently taking hold of the other boy’s wrist and shoving something into his hand. Moving James’s fingers into a fist around the object he spoke again, “Just… don’t look at it until you get inside or something. I, I have to go.” With a few swift movements, Keith’s helmet was on, and he mounted his bike, driving away without offering James a moment to speak.

He tore his eyes away from the road and Keith’s fading figure, looking down to his semi-fisted hand.

He should wait until he got inside like Keith asked.

There was also no reason he couldn’t look here though, right? It wasn’t as if he had company. He may have been standing in his yard, but it was also a solitary action.

No. He needed to listen. Even if excitement and curiosity were grabbing him, it wasn’t fair to pretend that Keith hadn’t asked him to wait. He had to respect Keith’s request.

He stepped around the side of the house quietly, acutely aware of the motion sensor light and the creak of the door as he slipped in through the back. In fact, he didn’t have a choice but to zone in on it, not when his heart sped up and thrashed against his ribcage with every step. How long was he even out? Was it possible his father was awake? Could he be walking right into a huge trap with horrid consequences?

No. He couldn’t panic. He just had to focus on making it to his room.

Padding up the staircase, he treaded carefully, skipping the creaky step and cautiously swinging around the corner where it turned. He held his breath as he reached the top, passing by his parents bedroom as he made it closer to his own. With a calculated movement, he opened his own door slightly and slid through the sliver of an opening. Closing it behind him, he threw himself onto his bed and breathed out the tension gripping at his body.

He made it. He was okay.

His eyes flicked to his fist. Bringing it closer, he unraveled his fingers and investigated whatever object Keith had pushed into his hand.

A crumpled piece of paper?

He took his thumb and index finger from both hands and pulled it apart, squinting at the small lines of text. A soda, a hamburger, fries — did Keith give him a fast food receipt?

With a small tilt towards his lamp something faint danced across the paper, bleeding in through the other side. Flipping it over, his eyes scanned the words scribbled across it, lips getting tugged back into that stupid smile from earlier. The penmanship displayed ten numbers and a single sentence.

‘You said you wanted to try being friends’


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there was something to be said for Ina's insistence on the importance of a good night's sleep. Running around and trying to complete every expectation was always so much easier when James hadn't spent the night out with the infamous boy on a motorcycle. 
> 
> Especially when it came to remembering everything he still had to do in the correct order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to be posting another chapter! I spent all of November doing NaNo with this fic and hit 50k so I'm really looking forward to sharing all of those chapters with you all in the future too!

The thought of texting Keith, no, having the ability to text Keith sent a massive wave of euphoric excitement through his bones, one that encapsulated his thought processes and focus resulting in a notebook of half-assed penmanship as he repeatedly attempted to maintain his attention on the teacher despite the itch he had for his phone.

Thank God he kept it in his locker. One lapse of judgement, and he’d be tapping away before he knew it.

Though, in retrospect, maybe he could also blame his horrid notes on the excruciating lack of sleep. There was nothing that could make him want to give up the events that took place before the sun rose, but it did mean that he needed to accept his inability to finish his work without giving up his hour nap between homework and leaving for school.

He rubbed at his eyes and let out a yawn. Maybe Ina was right, if the nausea sinking deep into his stomach and the day’s excruciating headache was anything to go by. There was no way he was going to keep this pace up until the end of the school year. Even if the mix of his current workload, his parents’ demands, and the unrelenting anxiety that caused his body to quake at the worst times demanded the dedication no matter the strain, there was only so much a single person could handle before they collapsed under the weight.

He preferred not to think of that outcome though. In the end, he didn’t exactly have as much choice in the matter as he liked to pretend he did. After all, it wasn’t as if any of his commitments would just fade from existence any time soon.

Honestly, looking back, it wasn’t as if it was only Ina pointing it out either. Maybe she was the bluntest of his friends, but Nadia’s insistence on him working himself to death and not being any fun and Ryan’s attempts to bring him away from his work were just Ina’s same message with some extra beating around the bush. None of them seemed this determined to get him to relax back during their freshman year, but in their defense, he also had hours of baseball to keep his mind away from school and exercise to release the stress.

He was happier too, if his trashed memory was anything to go off of.

At least once he graduated, he was free. Kind of. He'd still have to slave away over a desk for another four years at least, if his impressions of schools like Rice were anything to go off of. Though, having his own space away from his parents was more than enough of an incentive to reach that goal anyway, especially if it meant having a little bit more freedom.

And living up to his parents expectations.

There was something about that part he couldn't ever shake. No matter how many times he attempted to convince himself that he just had to please them for their sake, for his father's campaign, for his mother's desire to stick to the image of a picture perfect family, there was always a sliver of desire to reach that bar they had set. To obtain that impossible approval, or the even more elusive pride in having him as a son outside of the achievements they could brag to the world about.

It was a pathetic dream. He knew it. But it didn't stop him from wishing he could see the same pride in his parents eyes that he saw in Ryan's parents' when they saw their son's talent in photography. Or Nadia's parents' with her athletic talent. Or Ina's parents' with her annual math bowl competitions. Even if her accomplishments were also academic in nature, there was still something there that was missing when his parents received news of his achievements. The rare praise he did get was always empty, more like it was expected of him and that he was only hitting the minimum expectations that were set for him.

If anything, they were setting him up to be just another cog in a machine.

He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that.

Well, it wasn't like that was much different from the rest of them. Most people in their society were just cogs in a machine, bricks in a wall, or however people phrased it. In the end they all served little function and kept the machine of society going. If he wasn’t anything more than that, it wasn’t as if he had too much of a right to complain. His parents were just doing the same themselves, weren’t they?

A long, high-pitched buzz left the PA system and unleashed a list of announcements, each one drowned out by the newly arrived chatter of excited students. With utmost care, he placed his materials back into his bag and pushed himself up from his desk. Meeting his fingers to his eyes, he rubbed at them once more before tossing his bag over his shoulder and ambling out the classroom door and down towards his locker.

Damn. Maybe the all-nighters really were taking their toll. Yeah, they were annoying and exhausting, but the faint lingering nausea paired with the draining task of just continuing his daily life while not providing himself with the fuel to do so was anything but pleasant. Slow and groggy movements, an inability to pay attention to lectures, and his brain running like a laggy computer game were not exactly the top tier experiences of his life. Though, he couldn’t really say he knew anyone who felt opposite of him either.

He kneeled down in front of his open locker and unzipped his bag.

He opened his locker? Autopilot was a hell of an asset.

Reaching in, he exchanged the books and binders from the metal floor to his overstuffed backpack, jamming in the last one despite the very obvious sound of a popping seam fighting against the intrusion. In all honesty, he was too tired to let the true implications of that bother him. The damn thing could fall apart for all he cared, as long as it happened when he was taking a nap later.

With a moment of preparation, he threw the bag over both his shoulders and leaned one hand against an empty locker as he fought for his balance. If he didn’t need a chiropractor by the time he graduated, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Or if he managed to make it out of high school without a long list of health issues in his future. With the increasing rarity of a full night’s sleep, that scenario only seemed to grow in likelihood alongside his self-predicated back issues.

He shook the thought away. It was fine. He just needed to get through tutoring, then he was home free.

Turning away from his locker, he carried himself down the hall.

Tutoring. That was all he needed to do. Just tutor Keith, and then he could sleep. Easy enough, right?

But what if it wasn’t? What if Keith was being difficult today? What if he couldn’t think well enough to even combat him on it? What if he didn’t even get Keith as a tutee at all today?

A small pang of sadness shot through him at the thought.

Was he really that attached to the idea of tutoring Keith everyday? Even after the countless times James found himself pushing Keith to do something as simple as working on practice problems, here he was wishing for more time with Keith.

Had it really been that long since he made a new friend? Long enough to inject this type of excitement into him at the mere thought of getting to know another person?

Maybe Nadia was right about him needing to go out more.

With a small turn in the middle of the hallway, he peered into the door’s window. The room had a stark emptiness to it when the absence of students was paired with the dim lighting.

Wait.

It was empty.

Fuck.

A new sense of urgency washed over him as he swung his backpack off his shoulders and dropped to his knees. In hurried motions, he unzipped the bag and sifted through the contents until he wiggled his planner out from its trap between two books. Flipping it open, he frantically searched the numbered pages for the current week as the steady rhythm in his chest increased in frequency.

Did he really forget it was Friday?

There was no way he was that out of it, right?

His eyes swept over the day’s page and focused in on the date.

Nope. He totally forgot it was Friday.

Maybe his friends were right… maybe he needed to take care of himself…

He let out a defeated sigh and shoved the planner back into his bag. Yanking the zipper up and over forcefully, he fought the object’s disagreement until it gave in. With one final pull, he sealed the bag as his fisted hand hit the floor.

Lifting it closer to his face for inspection, he unraveled his fingers. A zipper laid peacefully where his digits once clasped it tight.

Great. His father was going to kill him.

Taking a shaky breath, he attempted to quell the intensity brewing within his chest. If there was one place he didn’t want his heart and lungs working overtime, it was in the vicinity of his peers. Even if the small tremors in his hands could tip off those close to him, it was a minuscule thing compared to the ruckus of fighting his own body for air.

It was only Ryan he needed to see anyway. It was fine. Ryan was no stranger to James’s struggles with anxiety. He’d been witness to too many panic attacks to say otherwise. If he ended up needing to step out, he could do so without any questions asked.

Heaving the bag up and back onto his shoulders, he ambled across the hallway and down the nearby staircase.

He just needed to make it to the art room. He could drop off his bag and hide somewhere while Ryan worked on whatever it was he needed to do. All he had to do was keep making those steps.

Even if his chest felt like it was going to explode.

With a final few steps, he crossed into the art room, feet carrying him like it was their sole purpose. Scanning the art room, he searched for his target as the invisible hands around his throat squeezed tighter.

Where was Ryan?

Was today his dentist appointment? The one day he was unable to give him a ride home?

How did he forget that too?

He gripped harshly at the straps of his bag, knuckles turning white as the masterfully constructed dam barring his anxiety felt the need to crumble.

Of course he forgot that. Of course he couldn’t remember a single thing today. Of course he was going to face his parents with a broken bag and begging for a ride home.

Of course he was fucking more things up.

“Well, you look like ten miles of bad road.”

The familiar voice echoed throughout the empty room. With a small glance up, James pinpointed the source. A head of black hair peeked out from behind a standing easel, tilting cutely as he waited for a response.

Keith blinked twice, resigning himself to the lack of an answer. His features softened as his gaze roamed over James’s form, then flicked to the floor. Curling his shoulders in, he finally asked, “Um, are you okay?”

Why did it have to be Keith? Of all people why was it him that had to see this? Yeah, he mentioned his anxiety to him last night, but talking about it and showing it were two entirely different things.

If Keith was looking for a reason to stop talking to him, this was it.

“No.” James replied curtly.

A fleck of concern cast on Keith’s expression. “Ryan’s not here if you’re looking for him.”

“I know.” James grumbled, “I have eyes.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest, paintbrush narrowly missing the sleeve of his shirt. “Just because you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you get to be an ass.”

Fuck.

He couldn’t mess things up with Keith. Not like this. Not this soon.

Forcing himself to take another shaky breath, he darted his eyes away. Eye contact was too much pressure alongside the whirlwind of negativity his brain refused to set aside.

Lowering his strained voice he said, “Sorry.”

A small frown crossed Keith’s face, softened features returning. “I think you should sit.”

He couldn’t face Keith like this. Not with the thundering in his chest threatening to destroy his ribcage.

He had to leave.

“Griffin.” Keith said, a stern sound setting into his voice, “If you don’t sit down, I’m going to make you.”

Was Keith going to hate him if he left though? Would Keith think he wanted nothing to do with him?

His sensation in his chest squeezed tighter.

Setting down the paintbrush, Keith padded over to the other side of the table next to the easel. Kicking the stool out with his right foot, he looked up at James expectantly.

Maybe he just needed to accept his fate. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.

Stepping forward, he found his way towards the offering. The metal legs seemed like a tower, and the small, thin bars connecting them only like a ladder he had to prepare himself to climb.

It was pathetic how the smallest tasks felt near impossible when he was beaten down like this.

Settling into the seat, he dropped his bag next to him with a loud klunk. He didn’t care anymore. His bag and the contents could be in shreds for all he cared.

He broke his bag and his shot at being friends with Keith. How else was the day supposed to descend into a pit of bad luck?

He rested his crossed arms on the table and sunk his head into them. At least he could avoid looking at Keith while anxiety ravaged his body once more in his life.

“Do you need anything?” Keith asked. Despite the inflection of concern in his voice, all James could picture was a face of judgement.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled, refusing to lift his face from where he kept it securely hidden.

“You’re shaking.”

Fuck.

Keith spoke again, words coming out more tentatively, “Can I help?”

There was no way Keith was serious.

“I’m, um, not the best at pretty words like you.” Keith continued, “But, if you need me to do something, let me know.”

Why did he have to be so attached to Keith of all people? Someone so hard to hate. Even with all the animosity between them not too long ago, there was no way he could twist the meanings behind Keith’s words. Nothing could be done to detract from the sincerity of the words falling from Keith’s lips.

Why was that feeling so complicated?

Why did he want a reason to pretend Keith didn’t care about him so badly after clawing his way in?

No. That wasn’t it. Keith could be close to him. He wanted Keith to care, wanted him to show some semblance of concern. But this part of him, the messy part that screamed threats to tear him to shreds at the worst moments? That was something he wished stayed hidden. Keith didn’t need tips on the secret ways James was truly vulnerable.

Or another peek of how imperfect he really was.

“It’s um, not just me, you know. Not the same, but remember the friend I mentioned? He has PTSD, so you’re not the only person I’ve seen have a panic attack.” Keith paused for a moment—Or maybe not. Time never seemed to pass normally whenever his adrenaline skyrocketed—then continued, “I’m not good at making people feel better, sorry. I just don’t want you to think I’m judging you or something. Anxiety sucks.”

Why did that hurt to hear? Why were emotions so confusing? Why couldn’t he think?

His fingers found his hair and grasped at it harshly as his wants clashed with his body’s insistence on disobeying him. There was something so grounding, so calming about the faint pull in his scalp as he tugged, as if it served as a reminder he was still alive and breathing on this same plain of existence.

Maybe he really was going to be okay. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Just like he’d done a million times. He’d get through this.

Coming to after the tsunami that was a panic attack was always something almost indescribable. Things felt too real and disjointed all at once, as if he was just returning to this world from somewhere else, as if he had been watching himself only moments before. Settling back into the sensation of the dark desk beneath his arms and the ability to have a coherent thought that wasn’t panic-stricken still didn’t manage to take away the amplified feeling of vulnerability that plagued his body afterwards either. Knowing logically that he wouldn’t physically break if he took a hit now didn’t take away from the exhaustion that ravaged his body afterwards either or how he still felt emotionally shaky even if it was no longer evident on the outside.

God, he needed a nap before he got too emotional in public.

He peeked up from where his head was hidden behind his crossed limbs and the large white desk beneath it. Striking violet eyes peered back at him from the other side of the desk, brows knit in concern as the other boy’s lips stayed pressed together. There was something so genuine about the gaze that even silence could convey. Something so kind, so caring that always seemed so hidden when it came to his interactions with Keith in the past. It was as if a bunch of carefully crafted walls had suddenly become invisible, like he was seeing the real Keith. The Keith that was disguised so expertly in an attempt to protect himself from the harsh words and actions hurled at him on the daily. Maybe he couldn’t reach out and touch that Keith, confirm that he was real and would stay so visible, but he could burn that image into his mind. Remembering the way Keith gazed at him intently and his scrunched together lips just slightly frowned as he stayed concerned about James’s well being felt so oddly important.

He wanted a photograph. He didn’t want to forget who Keith truly was.

“Are you okay?”

Even Keith’s voice managed to follow that same concerned aura. The same one that managed to send a little flutter into his system as the other boy’s genuine attentiveness to his emotions came through.

What would it take to see this Keith on the daily? To see a smile and hear who Keith was without the worry of if someone was attempting to play another sick joke on him.

Would James ever know?

James swallowed down the remaining adrenaline and forced his body to find its voice, “I think so.”

Keith leaned back, letting the physical distance set in between them again. “That’s good.” After a moment, he added, “Does that happen often?”

“More than I’d like to admit.” James replied, holding back an annoyed groan.

Something flashed across Keith’s face. Pity? No. Empathy. It crawled into his voice as his eyes moved around and away from James’s, “Sorry.”

James shook his head. “Not your fault. Just… no sleep and three cups of coffee. I did it to myself.” 

“No.”Keith gently scratched at his arm through his sleeve. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have taken you out for so long last night.”

“Keith, if I didn’t want to be there, I would’ve told you no.” James rested his chin on his crossed arms, propping it up to look at Keith as he spoke.

“Are you sure?” Keith subtly but surely gnawed at his bottom lip as he paused. Then he said, “You never texted me, so I assumed…”

His eyes widened. Had Keith been thinking something was wrong, because he waited so long? What if Keith thought he was doing nothing but joining in with the rest of their school in the cruel treatment he often received? Was Keith about to close off completely to him?

“No!” James assured, biting back the panic threatening to lace itself into his voice, “I just keep my phone off and in my locker during classes. Especially after the test incident. You know…”

Keith’s shoulder’s lifted closer to his head as his eyes darted away. “Oh,” he replied sheepishly before pressing his teeth together. Sucking in a small breath, he drummed his fingers on his other hand. “I forgot you’re a nerd.”

He shot Keith a playful glare. “Hey.”

Keith shrugged. “I mean, can you really say you’re not?”

“Fair.”

A faint sound came from Keith, like a whisper. If the room hadn’t been so silent, he would’ve missed it. But, even with the way Keith fought it, it was unmistakably the indication of a tiny laugh. 

Keith leaned his crossed arms on the desk. “Why were you looking for Ryan by the way? Did you need something, or was it just the anxiety?”

“Honestly… the anxiety was because I forgot he wasn’t going to be here.” James confessed. Why was Keith so easy to talk to like this? “Today’s just been a mess. I was already high strung, and now, I don’t have a ride home, ‘cause I forgot to take the bus.”

“Oh, um,” Keith bit his bottom lip gently, “if that’s all, I could give you a ride.”

James blinked twice in succession. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Yeah. It’s fine.” Keith’s eyes darted down, and he began playing with his fingertips. “You, um, you did say you wanted to try being friends. And friends help each other.”

James smiled, warmth filling his chest as he processed the words. Something was so comforting knowing Keith was hoping to genuinely be friends too, that he also wanted to be closer.

Maybe one day, that could be their reality.

“If you don’t want to, I can get an Uber.” James replied.

“I do want to. I’m offering.” Keith stated firmly, “You’re not making me.”

James lifted his head up, then rested it on his hand as his elbow rested on the table. “As long as it’s because you want to.”

“It is. God Griffin, for someone who doesn’t have to worry about people constantly playing mean jokes on him, you’re so hard to accept a favor.” Keith rolled his eyes lightheartedly, but the words were still tainted by the reminder of Keith’s daily reality within the school walls. “I was only trying to get ahead on my assignment for next week. If you don’t mind waiting another half hour, I can take you.”

Did Keith have a subject that he genuinely got good marks in? One that he was willing to work extra hours on to get ahead on assignments and produce top notch work?

Well, in retrospect, it made sense. Keith’s passion in life fell towards the more creative side of things. Hours of sketching instead of giving his attention to lectures was easy to miss if it wasn’t being looked for, but it didn’t change the fact that Keith was truly capable of applying himself to a subject. Even if it was a subject that didn’t get as much recognition, there was something about Keith having an interest in school that he willingly gave his free time to that made James feel that same warmth.

Keith could be smart all he wanted. But was he really Keith if he was spending hours meticulously working on math and english assignments?

Besides, something was so charming about the relaxed look on Keith’s face whenever he had art supplies in hand.

“No. That’s fine. I’ll just…” James’s voice trailed off as his eyes flicked down to his bag.

How was it so easy to let that slip his mind?

Keith tilted his head slightly. “You good?”

James shook himself out of it. “Yeah. I forgot I broke my bag so I can’t do homework.”

A frown crossed Keith’s face. “I can take you to get a new one.”

“You’re already driving me home.” James protested.

“So? It’s Friday, and it’s not like I have anything to do until later anyway.” Keith replied.

Keith had plans? With another person? Was it the friend he mentioned a few times throughout their conversations? Keith did seem pretty attached to him, but it wasn’t as if James could blame him. With almost an entire school that either bullied him or gave him the cold shoulder, it was only natural that Keith would cling to those who didn’t treat him in such a manner. Though, it also didn’t necessarily mean that the friend was the person Keith was meeting up with. He could be going out and doing anything really. Keith was a free spirit like that. But, the one possibility his brain refused to stop buzzing back to was confusing on his part.

Because why should he care if it might be some guy that Keith was meeting up with tonight instead? It was a Friday night, and people were allowed to go on dates. In fact, wasn’t that a normal thing? Keith deserved a relationship if he could find one. A boy that’d treat him well and make him feel good about himself.

Why did the idea of that bug him so much?

It wasn’t like he had an issue with Keith being gay. No. Even with all the emphasis on religion in his upbringing, it was hard for him to fall into the pit of bigotries he’d seen others buy into. Why did it matter if Keith kissed boys instead of girls? It’s not like it hurt anyone.

So, why was it such a big deal to him now of all times?

“Oh, what are your plans?”

Did he really just ask that? Was he that pressed? Was he that much of an idiot?

Keith furrowed his brow for a split second then answered, “Oh, um, my friend is throwing a little get together. I usually go hang out with him and his friends every week or two.” He shrugged as he added the rest, “It’s the only way I get out even if I’m not huge on big stuff.”

Oh. That was all? Just seeing some friends?

The previous discomfort melted like butter. There was nothing to worry about. Keith deserved friends.

Though, there was nothing to worry about with Keith possibly having a boyfriend either.

James shook the thought away. He was probably just jealous that a boyfriend would get to be close to Keith much faster than he would. After all, it wasn’t like his goal all along hadn’t been to befriend the other boy.

Keith’s voice tore him from his thoughts. “You should take a nap while I finish.”

Focusing back on Keith, the same purple eyes and concerned, barely-there pout gazed back at him. “What?”

“You can’t do your homework, so you should sleep. You look tired.” Keith reiterated. He leaned his head on his palm. “You know, anxiety is better managed on a good night’s sleep anyway.”

James ran his fingertips over his eyes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe not to everyone. But I was the person you were out with in the first place.” Keith stood, pushing the stool back as he found his footing. With a single reach over the table, his hand gently made contact with James’s head and guided it down to the table. “So, take a nap while I finish, Griffin. It’ll be good for you.”

Keith’s footsteps echoed in the empty classroom as James left his head on the hard surface. Repositioning his arms, he made a makeshift cushion and felt his eyes slip closed against his will.

Maybe Keith was right.

* * *

The pungent smell of cigarette smoke surrounded them both as Keith took another drag from beside James. The small, secluded, wooden bench was a pleasant hideaway from the eyes of onlookers as James ripped the tag off of the brand new bag he shelled out the last of his birthday money for.

It wasn’t as if he was attempting to hide his friendship with Keith from anyone. In fact, he didn’t care if anyone saw the two of them having a friendly chat, or sitting with matching motorcycle helmets at their feet. It didn’t matter if his new connection with Keith became known to the town anyway.

What did matter though, stupidly enough, was the broken bag James shuffled his stuff out of as they enjoyed each other’s company.

James reached in, pulling out another textbook and transferring it neatly to the newly purchased bag. “Thanks again.”

“No problem. I know your dad likes to act like he’s a super nice guy, but I’m also not an idiot.” Keith leaned the cigarette away from his face. “I’m not leaving you to whatever the hell he’ll do to you.”

His muscles tensed, freezing mid-action as the words processed. “He’s not—“

“You don’t have to lie.” Keith interrupted, “I know your dad’s actually an asshole.”

James opened his mouth, then closed it. Something felt so wrong lying to Keith now. Not after the night before, and especially not after Keith was finally giving him some wiggle room to bond with him. Because, Keith wasn’t wrong. His dad wasn’t exactly the best father out there, nor the best person. And, based on Keith’s admissions about his aunt and uncle, there was a part of him James assumed had to understand.

How Keith knew though? That was a whole other question.

Was he really that obvious? Was his whole family that obvious? Could their negativity really penetrate through the picture perfect exterior they all worked so hard to portray?

He turned his head away from Keith in resignation. “How’d you guess? Am I that bad at acting?”

“No.” Keith replied. When James finally turned back to face him, he continued, the remnants of a frown still ghosting his face, “You’re actually really good at it.”

“Then, what? I don’t get how you can just know that if I’m actually doing my job.” James sighed.

“Covering things up for your parents isn’t your job, Griffin.” Keith said firmly, “Your job is supposed to be worrying about college, or grades, or whatever.” He took a short drag of his cigarette and added with a mumble, “No wonder you always look stressed out of your mind.”

“Easy for you to say.” James huffed with a roll of his eyes, “You’re not me.”

“Yeah, but I think I’d know a thing or two about family trying to cover up your behavior.” Keith leaned back further into the bench.

“Excuse me. What would you know about what it’s like to be dealing with my parents?” Okay. That came out a tad nastier than he intended. Maybe there was a real reason Keith thought he was an asshole.

Keith sighed. “Not much. But I have an aunt who likes to fake cry about me being the worst kid ever and an uncle who thinks I’m going to hell.”

“I—” James cut himself off. What was he going to say? That Keith really was a bad kid? That he was going to hell? Neither were true, but it didn’t erase the fact that Keith wasn’t exactly pleading his case very effectively.

Keith spoke before he could articulate his thoughts. “I know, I know. I do those things she cries about. But, I wasn’t always doing all this.” When James didn’t have an immediate response, he added, “We both grew up here. Was I always running around and getting into trouble?”

James pressed his lips together. Keith and him may have run in different circles—if Keith’s social situation could ever be called that—but it didn’t change the fact that small town gossip ran far and fast. Did Keith really make no waves in their youth?

No. Keith was right. Between all the excitement going on in his own house, it had completely slipped past him. His mother never ceased to be the gossipy type, bringing over church friends to have loud and flippant conversations about the other people they knew in town, and it wasn’t as if he never caught any snippets of their conversations. Especially when his mother and father were so adamant on showing off what a perfect son they had. But, news about Keith himself was benign. Even when the popular opinion was that it was a shame his parents never married, those opinions never circled around him until he was older. James couldn’t say when it happened, but it wasn’t always like this. It morphed into what it was now, even if it was so easy to forget.

“So, if you weren’t always out and about, why did you start?”

Keith shrugged. “I figured if she was going to keep acting like I was the most horrible kid in the world because her and my uncle were mad they ended up being guardians, then I’d show her what a bad kid is. It just happened from there.”

James contemplated his words with care, then finally settled on. “I don’t think you’re even that bad of a kid.”

“Oh really?” Keith replied playfully, “That’s not what you said before.”

James let a stupid smile pull at his lips. “Yeah, well, I guess I just needed to get to know you better.”

A small smile graced Keith’s face in return. “If only more people were like you, Griffin.”

James pressed his lips together as an embarrassing heat rose to his cheeks. Keith was going to be the end of him. Where did he get off saying kind things to him?

God, had his parents really messed him up that bad? Was he getting stupidly giddy over someone being nice to him?

He lightheartedly knocked his fist into Keith’s arm. “Who gave you the right to be nice?”

“Didn’t know I needed permission.” Keith moved to take a drag from his cigarette. The curl of his lips failed to cease even as he attempted to wrap them around the thin white stick.

Leaning back down to transfer his pencils to his new bag, he glanced back at Keith. Stopping his movements he asked, “So, how did you know? About my dad.”

Keith dug his teeth into his bottom lip and shut his eyes for a moment, then said, “I was biking once—before I had my motorcycle—and he hit me with a car and proceeded to yell at me for it.”

James choked on his spit. “Excuse me, he what?!”

“Yeah…” Keith drummed his fingers on the wood of the bench. “He was mad, because it scratched up the front of his car or something and that I should’ve been on the other side of the road. I don’t know.”

Keith had to be lying right? Or maybe just exaggerating?

No. Even with the amount he wanted to believe his father wasn’t capable of such a thing, or that it was someone else, a fluke, the fact of the matter remained the same. His father had a track record that didn’t exactly fight against such an accusation.

“I…” James forced the rest of the words out, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your job to clean up your parents mistakes.” Keith reminded, “Besides, you’re not him. I don’t think you two are alike at all anyway.”

“He’d flip if he heard that.”

“Yeah. Well, I don’t think you want to be like him anyway.” Keith pointed out.

“No. I don’t.” James confirmed.

“See.” Keith poked James’s shoulder. “You’re already better than him.”

“At least one of us thinks so.” James sighed as he zipped up his new backpack.

“If I have to go through a ring of fire to make you believe that one, then I will.” Keith stood, scooping up the motorcycle helmet that was previously at his feet. After a moment of silence, he added, “So, I know you know I’m going out with friends tonight. But, you can still text me. I’ll answer.”

James followed similar motions, then swung the new bag around his arms. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Keith flashed him a small smile. “Ready to go?”

“Right behind you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of all the places James expected to spend parts of his high school career none of them were a fast food restaurant late at night, and especially not with the town's most infamous bad boy. Though, maybe Nadia was right. He needed to be more open... about a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing amazing! Just here to drop another chapter. Enjoy!

James pressed his lips into a thin line as he let the atmosphere of the dinner sink in. It was a miracle in some sense that he managed to not join in, to yell something back as he sat in silence between the two harsh voices, but it was probably wrong to also not give himself some credit as well. An exterior such as his took years to hone. One where there was an emotional forcefield around him, each of his parents’ words to one another skidding across the surface but never fully allowing him to feel the full weight of the subtle jabs and accusations that left their mouths.

He scooped a few peas onto his fork and raised them to his mouth. It wasn’t like he had the power to do much more. Phones weren’t for the dinner table, he wasn’t supposed to leave until they all finished their food, and one wrong move put the anger of the two onto him. If anything, it was as if it was all designed for him to sit through.

Though, it didn’t change the thoughts that maybe it was better if that negativity  _ was _ focused on him instead. At least there was no need to deny the imperfect family on the verge of breaking for reasons even he wasn’t permitted to know.

Maybe he could find a way to leave the table.

“For a church-going woman, I think you need to work on being a bit more faithful.” The venomous words left his father’s mouth without an inkling of regret. It wasn’t the first time a similar line left his father’s mouth. The tone he took towards both of them was never something James quite favored, but he knew the reality of the situation. His father wouldn’t take it back.

He opened his mouth to speak.

His mother spoke before he had the opportunity, “Maybe if my husband didn’t only pull out bible verses when it benefits him, I would’ve had a better example.”

James forced out the next words before another rebuttal could fall on his ears, “I have a lot of homework to do. May I be excused?”

The silence was deafening. Crushing.

His mother glanced over at his father. Even with the bickering, she still always found herself silently looking for his approval, as if the harsh words meant nothing and all their fighting was for naught.

Finally, his father spoke, “You’re excused  _ only _ if you stay in your room.”

He swallowed, pushing himself away from the table. “Yes, sir.”

The skid of the chair legs against the tile echoed louder than he wished for. Though, it couldn’t have been more disruptive than the creaking of the stairs or the closing of his bedroom door as he treaded the expanse of the house in his attempt to escape.

Even the shut door wasn’t enough to keep the voices down below from penetrating what was supposed to be his personal space.

He stepped over towards the bed and flopped ungracefully onto the mattress. Groaning into the pillow, he shoved the sides of it up to his ears.

He wanted them to stop. There was no reason they had to be like this. No reason they had to pick fights and then turn around and act like nothing had ever gone wrong in the first place. No reason they had to drag him into it and then force him to act as if he was coming from the happiest home ever.

It wasn’t normal. He knew that. There wasn’t behavior like this with his friends’ families. No passive aggressive remarks like it was another hallmark of marriage, no masking every single negative aspect of their dynamic, no bringing their children into it like it was almost intentional that they watch. Though, was that even something he could say? How could he really be sure that none of his friends were doing what he did everyday but better? It wasn’t like his own parents fought in front of company, so why would anyone else’s parents do the same? In fact, it wasn’t until Keith mentioned something directly that he even had an inkling of how things may be off within his family. Who was to say Ryan’s family wasn’t exactly like his, or Ina’s, or Nadia’s?

Something still felt wrong about that assumption though. Even in public, the way his parents addressed him always felt so different from how he’d grown up seeing Ina’s parents act towards her. Through their childhood, they watched her academic gifts develop and did whatever they could to help those same gifts flourish and take her places she wouldn’t reach without the added support. But, James? No. His parents pushed and pushed. Pushed until he was overextended and barely managing to sustain his pace. Yeah, he had top marks, could play an instrument, was athletic, and now had a knowledge of the inner workings of political campaigns. But, in reality, was he actually talented at any of it? Was he good at anything? He constantly drained himself with keeping up the facade of being the mayor’s perfect son, but did that facade really ever end? Maybe he was constantly acting, constantly pretending, but was there actually anything real about him? Everything he’d done so far in his life was to keep up that same story to everyone, every skill learned, everything he was pushed into, all for the sake of his parents.

Did he even enjoy any of the things he was supposed to? Did he even do baseball for himself? Was that just another stint spearheaded by his parents’ insistence on letting everyone think they had a white picket fence life?

An insistent vibration came from the space between his leg and his bedsheets. Reaching down, he pulled his phone up to his face and searched for the name on the screen.  _ Nadia _ .

He let out a sigh. There was nothing in him that wanted to start talking about nonsense when he picked up the call. The next words of his mouth inched closer and closer towards being horribly incriminating and having an actual person on the other end was the last thing he needed.

She wasn’t going to let him ignore her though. Ina or Ryan maybe, but Nadia? Nope.

Tapping the answer button on the screen, he put it to his ear. “Hey.”

“So, a little birdie told me something today.” Nadia’s voice came through excitedly on the other end.

“You know you could’ve just texted me, right?” James rolled over onto his back.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, “I don’t know if your parents are still doing that thing where they go through your phone.”

“I’ve been keeping it on me lately.” He added, “Why?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s anything bad, but your parents don’t like Keith, so yeah.”

“Keith? What about him? Is he alright?”

“Oh, so you two  _ are _ officially friends then.” James could almost hear the smirk as her words came through the phone.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess so?” Were him and Keith really friends as others would put it? Yeah, they hung out, but Keith hadn’t done much in terms of reaching out outside of when they physically saw each other. It wasn’t as if it made the time they spent together less real, but there was still almost something missing about it all.

He wanted to be able to text Keith when something good happened and call him if he had bad news. And he longed for the same from Keith. To hear his problems and be an open ear when he just needed someone late at night. Though, maybe he was just wishing for too much.

Nadia inquired, “What do you mean, you guess so?”

“I mean, we’ve hung out and stuff… but he doesn’t really text me or anything, so I’m not sure what your definition of friendship is here.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, “Of course that means you two are friends. You’re acting like you did with Marie last year, but you were crushing on her. I don’t know what your excuse with Keith is. If someone like Keith is willingly hanging out with you, I’d say that means you’re friends, so stop worrying.”

“If you say so.” He gnawed at the skin of his bottom lip, then paused and added, “Wait. How is this anything like my ex?”

“James Griffin.” Nadia said his name like a scolding parent, “You haven’t been this worked up about befriending someone since you were trying to get to know her. It’s all the same. You’re focusing on all the small things and ignoring the big ones and then literally act like you’ve never spoken to a new person in your life.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I, James?” Nadia replied cheekily, “If you were into guys, I’d think you liked Keith.”

His muscles tensed, freezing him in place and refusing to let another word leave his mouth. Why did that possibility scare him so much? He knew himself, right? So, he didn’t have to worry about secretly being into guys.

Though was that really true? Did he really know himself that well? Where did his parents’ desires stop and his own personality begin? When did he finally learn those things?

Did he like boys?

No. No, he didn’t. He would’ve had to have known by now. Keith knew years ago. James would’ve known then, too. He obviously likes girls too. He had a girlfriend last year.

Besides, even if he did, was any of it worth falling out of line in his household?

“Well, we both know I’m not.” James forced out despite his tightening windpipe, “I don’t have to be gay to be friends with someone who is.”

“You’re right.” She conceded, “I shouldn’t assume any friends he makes are for that reason.”

“Anyway, why did you call?” James asked, leaning further back into his throw pillows.

“Oh! Okay!” Nadia exclaimed, “So, I heard a rumor recently that you’ve been getting rides on Keith’s motorcycle. Is it true?”

James sighed. “You couldn’t have texted me this?”

“I already told you why I called.”

“Yeah, yeah you did.” James let his eyes slip closed, “I mean, he gave me a ride home the other day when I missed the bus. If that’s what you’re talking about?”

Nadia’s voice broke into a teasing tone, “Awww, James, you’re growing up. Look at you, out here riding on a motorcycle! So rebellious.”

“I wore a helmet. I don’t see the big deal.”

“James, you know exactly what the big deal is.” Nadia huffed, “You’re the poster child of not getting into trouble, and here you are mingling with the most known rebel in our town and riding around on his motorcycle.”

“But I—“ an obnoxious ringing interrupted their call. Lowering the phone from his face, he skimmed his eyes over the name of the caller.

His heart skipped a beat and fluttered in his chest.  _ Keith. _

“Hey, Nadia I have to go. I’ll text you. Sorry.” He quickly rushed out.

“Alright. I’ll text you.” She replied, “See ya.”

“See you.” With a small tap of his finger, he switched the destination of the other end of his line and ignored the thundering in his ribcage while he spoke, “Hey.”

Keith’s voice came through the microphone, “Oh! Griffin, hey.”

“Was I not the person you were expecting?” He replied, pushing all his pseudo confidence to the front of his words. Maybe it was a misdial. It wasn’t like Keith had ever called him before.

He was such an idiot.

“No, no, you are. I just...” Keith’s voice trailed off awkwardly before adding, “I guess I wasn’t expecting you to pick up.”

James furrowed his eyebrows together. “What? Why wouldn’t I pick up?”

“I don’t know,” Keith confessed, “we don’t really talk on the phone much. I was thinking maybe this was a bad idea after it rang a few times.”

“No, no, I was just already on a call.” James assured, “I’m more than happy to talk to you.”

“Shit. Griffin, you can just talk to me later. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Keith anxiously rushed the words out.

“Keith, Keith,” Something about the name was so nice to say, “I promise, you’re fine. It wasn’t anything important. What’s up?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” Keith stumbled over the words, “I was hanging out with Shiro last night. I was talking about you, and he was giving me a hard time about putting more effort into making friends. So, I called you. I mean, friends do that, right?”

A stupid smile broke out across James’s face. Keith talked about him?

“Yeah. They do.” James replied.

The next words left Keith’s mouth unprompted, “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You sound tired.” Keith clarified, “I can call you back?”

Oh.

Was he that obvious?

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” James let out a soft sigh, “I’m always tired if you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s a weekend. You should try and rest.” Keith answered gently. There was something touching about Keith’s insistence on getting him some proper hours of sleep. Maybe Keith was a whole lot sweeter than he thought not too long ago.

“No chance. My folks are fighting.” His eyes widened as his brain proceeded the words that had just fallen from his lips. There was no way he just let himself slip that badly. No way he just let his guard down long enough to confess something so secret to someone who he’d only recently befriended. He frantically raked his mind searching for some sort of excuse, anything that could brush off the words he just let fly so freely, “I, I—“

Keith cut him off, “It’s okay. I won’t say anything. Just... don’t say anything about what I said about my uncle and aunt the other night either, okay?”

James blinked a few times in succession before replying, “Okay, sure. Any reason?”

A few moments of silence passed before Keith finally spoke, “Everyone talks in this town, and I don’t want my parents to worry about me.”

“I... I’m sorry, I’m confused. I thought you lived with your uncle and aunt?”

“I do.” Keith confirmed, “But it’s because my parents are always away for their jobs. I don’t want them to hear that my uncle and aunt are assholes and have them get worried.”

“Keith, it’s their job to worry about you.” James countered.

“You wouldn’t get it. Your parents are around all the time.” The flick of a lighter sounded in the background of Keith’s side of the call, “Just... you have your secrets, and I have mine, okay?”

“Alright.” After a moment, James added, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I don’t like being pitied.” Keith said matter-of-factly. Then, he continued, “I’m sorry about your folks though. I mean, I’m not planning on going home for a while, and I wanted to grab a bite to eat. I could take you with me.”

James rolled over onto his side, “I’m not allowed out. Thanks for the offer though.”

“Who said you needed their permission?” Keith snorted.

“You know my dad.” James reminded, “He’ll have my head.”

“Lie to him. Say you’re tutoring.” Keith suggested without missing a beat.

James chuckled, a smile crawling onto his lips, “Wow, sounds like you’ve done this type of thing a lot.”

“Granted. They don’t check on my lies. But, yes, I have.” James swore, if Keith wasn’t on the other side of a phone call, he’d be able to see a cheeky smirk on the other boy’s face.

Damn, how was he supposed to say no now?

He ran his teeth over his bottom lip briefly before finally replying, “Okay. You can come get me. But, if anyone asks, I’m tutoring you.”

“Fine by me.”

* * *

James’s fingers danced around the loose thread taunting him as he subtly glanced around his surroundings. There was something so different about sitting down inside a fast food joint after the sun disappeared and all that was left was the select few who were passing through for a quick bite compared to the times he’d recently been dragged along to one. Though, he could probably attribute that feeling to the fact he was out past curfew with the one person his parents would hate more than anyone for James to be caught dead with.

Though, maybe that thrill was just the part that kicked that fuzzy feeling into him every time he managed to find himself next to Keith.

The plastic tray clunked ungracefully against the countertop table as Keith slid into the tall seat across from him. The beginnings of a smile played at the other boy’s lips before they were very obviously forced away.

James slid one of the two drinks over to the other side of the table. “Are you okay?”

“I—Yeah.” Keith pressed his lips together for a moment and darted his eyes away briefly, “You just perked up a little. I was happy.”

“Oh...” A heat rose to James’s cheeks. Embarrassment? Yeah. Embarrassment. Who was he? Getting stupidly excited over a two dollar burger as if he hadn’t eaten a real meal before. And of course, Keith caught him in the act.

It had to be embarrassment.

“No! I, um, not like that. I was just happy that you seemed to be feeling better!” Keith threw his hands up in front of himself defensively, “Not in the crush way, I promise.”

A small surprising stab ran through James’s chest for a split second, but the look reflecting in Keith’s eyes screamed for him to ignore it. “No, no. I didn’t think that, so you’re fine.”

“Okay...” Keith’s eyes flicked down to the perfectly wrapped paper surrounding his food choice, “Sorry, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable. If you did, I wouldn’t be okay holding onto you every time you give me a ride.” James assured.

Keith exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. His index finger ran over the plastic lid of his cup, poking down every raised indicator it adorned before he finally returned James’s gaze, “I know, I know. It’s an instinct.”

“From...” What was he supposed to say? The bullies? The homophobic adults in town? The teachers who refused to help a student solely based on the nature of his sexuality?

Keith replied anyway, “Yeah...”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Keith accompanied the words with a small shrug before hooking his finger under an opening in the wrapping of his burger and undressing the intricately covered food before him. He leaned forward, jaw wide open and eyes slipping closed for a moment as he officially claimed the burger as his. Swallowing the piece, a cheeky smile received ownership of his lips, “So, how does it feel to finally sneak out?”

The last hour replayed in James’s head. The packing of his backpack with useless objects, the blatant lie to his parents about where he was headed, the chucking of his bag into the bushes, every little detail until he was safely putting on the second motorcycle helmet Keith provided him and wrapping his arms around that familiar waist.

In all honesty, it was almost odd. Maybe in any other circumstance, he’d be busting at the seams with anxiety over his parents’ future actions when he was discovered, but there was something about the events of the night that quelled it. Though, the possibility of it being due to the way his parents either saw only him or forgot about his existence completely during these types of nights was overwhelming.

That part was admittedly a little sad. Maybe alongside the knowledge they wouldn’t notice his disappearance until they stopped screaming the constant presence during those arguments was more of a drain on his psyche than he wanted to consciously acknowledge.

But, the little fuzzy feeling that insisted on spreading through him as soon as he stepped out after his phone call with Keith could at least say someone was able to replace the dreariness with something else. And the sparks that threatened to ignite was soon as his hands made contact with Keith’s waist only strengthened the case that the adrenaline of the action positively served his mood.

James’s words came with a matching smile spread across his face, “Pretty great, to be honest.”

A spark flicked into Keith’s eyes.

Those gorgeous eyes.

“That’s a relief.” Keith replied, crossing his arms onto the tabletop with a single fry between his index finger and thumb, “I was a bit worried you’d be anxious.”

“I mean, I can’t say there’s none there whatsoever. It’s just kinda muddled.” James confessed before taking a sip from the tall plastic straw sticking out of his drink.

A wave of concern washed over Keith’s face, frown forming as he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay? I can take you home if you want.”

James shook a palm in front of Keith, “No, no, it’s okay. Really.” He exhaled before adding, “I think I just have this constant background noise of anxiety that’s hard to shake.”

Keith frowned.

How was this the same boy he was tutoring after school? The same boy who refused to do his work or even attempt to pretend he was trying was not also sitting in front of him listening attentively to his every word, reacting so personally to hearing James’s struggles and sadness.

Maybe he really was in over his head when it came to Keith.

“It’s okay.” James said instinctively before adding on, “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Maybe letting someone else worry about you for once would do you some good.” Keith grumbled under his breath. He sighed, sliding his eyes shut and collecting himself before taking another sip from his drink.

Fuck. Was he messing this up already? Was he making Keith upset?

James swallowed, placing his half eaten burger down onto the crinkled paper it was recently wrapped in.

Suddenly, all his food seemed unappetizing.

Keith raised an eyebrow at him, inspecting the scenario once the difference dawned on him. His teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, and his eyes fell to the table. “I’m sorry. I just... even with your dad being an asshole, I’m jealous. I’m out here raising myself, and you have people around you all the time who want to look out for you, but you won’t let them.”

Oh.

Well, Keith wasn’t exactly wrong. He did have parents in his life, something Keith didn’t seem to have much of. But, it was rarely ever a case of sunshine and rainbows. In fact, if he ever managed to get the chance, a part of him would still trade with Keith in a heartbeat.

“I told you my dad doesn’t care about  _ me _ , he cares about the look.” James replied.

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

“Oh?”

“You have a bunch of people willing to drop everything for you. Let them care about you.” Keith reiterated, holding his burger still in front of himself.

James tentatively picked up his cup. Even if a wave of anxiety threatened to ruin him, there was still a part to play. No reason to let out the negativity, even if it was only through the smallest actions. Though, Keith had an odd way of reading him even in the moments that were dominated with the tidbits of acting that kept James’s true emotions under wraps.

But, was it really even worth playing the part around Keith if he continued to do that? Wouldn’t it be easier to just let go and have another person he could stop faking it all with?

That was a question for another day.

“If you haven’t noticed, Keith, most of those people stopped hanging out with me once I stopped playing baseball.” James finally answered.

Keith shook his head slightly. “I wasn’t talking about them.”

“Then...”

“Your friends. You know, Kinkade, Ina, Rizavi, those three. They obviously care about you.” Keith ran his index finger over the plastic lid of his cup, “I never had that, Griffin. Don’t take it for granted.”

A frown tugged at James’s lips. Yeah, it was pretty obvious Keith traveled this world on his own, away from the influences of others, but the fact that it wasn’t just a simple matter of being independent that brought him there sometimes failed to settle in James’s thought process about it.

“What about your friend, Shiro. I mean, you said you were hanging with him. So, you have to have someone, right?” James shrugged alongside his words, face falling back into sadness when Keith’s words didn’t perk up.

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like I always had that. I barely had friends in both elementary and middle school, and then I  _ thought _ I finally made a few freshman year, but they were the ones that tricked me. So, here I am now.” Keith swirled a single french fry in his ketchup, “I have Shiro, and as much as his friends let me hang out with them, I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m Shiro’s friend. So, I guess I can say I have maybe two friends.”

James ran his teeth over his bottom lip harshly. “Who’s number two?”

“You.” Keith said without missing a beat, “Maybe. We’ll see.”

His heart skipped in his chest, coherent thoughts leaving his brain for a moment before he focused in on the beginnings of a smile encroaching on Keith’s face. “Well,” James crossed his arms on the table and leaned in slightly, “Guess I need to treasure that confession then.”

“Yeah, well, you better.” Keith’s eyes flicked away as he added the second part, “You’re too persistent for your own good, Griffin. If you’re this committed to having me as a friend, I feel for whatever girl you like.”

A small pang of discomfort ran through him at Keith’s last sentence. Why did it bother him so much? It wasn’t like anything in it was particularly untrue. He was persistent with Keith lately, and if he liked someone, they’d be subject to it too most likely.

Was it the assumption? The automatic thought that whoever he would be chasing after would be a girl?

No. It couldn’t be. He was straight. He liked girls. He had a girlfriend last year, so there was no question about it.

So, why was that assumption still so uncomfortable to hear?

“If only you told my ex that.” James finally settled on, adding personality to the words with a quick motion of his index finger. It wasn’t as if any of it was a lie, though it also kept those

“Then I have quite a few words for her.” Keith said lightheartedly, mimicking James’s previous movement.

James let out a laugh, “I think if you called her up, she’d just be mad that I snuck out for you and not her.”

“Aww,” Keith placed his hand over his heart jokingly, “Griffin, am I important to you?”

With a roll of his eyes, he playfully smacked Keith’s arm. Resting his elbow on the table, he propped his face out with a palm on his cheek. A stupid smile forced its way onto his face as the next words fell out involuntarily, “You know, I think I like this Keith.”

Keith dropped his hand away from his body, the small, subtle shift in his muscles was hard to catch but unmistakable. Purple eyes gazed back at James, filled with earnest longing for connection and flecks of hidden vulnerability that seldom showed themselves. With slightly upturned eyebrows and a quieter voice, he finally asked, “I... what do you mean?”

James’s eyes widened immensely, brain finally catching a glimpse of what it had just managed to let slip past his lips. Why was he thinking such a thing? Why was he telling Keith so many compliments that toed the line of platonic and faux flirting?

Why was it so natural?

“I mean like...” James’s fingers met the wrapper of his burger, hands finding a new task in giving it a new shape, “you seem yourself. You’re not worried about what people are going to do to you. I like being around you no matter what, but you just seem happier now.” He tacked on, “I don’t know. Maybe that doesn’t make sense. But, I like seeing you when you’re not so guarded, I guess.”

Keith bit down on his bottom lip, gorgeous eyes softening once they finally flicked upwards. Both hands slowly fell into his lap as he processed the words. After a few moments, he spoke, words delicate but genuine, “Your parents don’t know the kid they’re missing out on by pushing you so much.”

“Keith, what—“

Keith cut James off, “What I said. Take it however you want.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he flicked his eyes away.

A silence fell between them before James dared to speak again, “Well, if that’s your hill to die on, I think when it comes to the two of us a lot of people overlooked the wrong one.”

“Have fun finding a single person who agrees with you.” Keith slid onto his feet and dropped his wrapper onto the large plastic tray. “You done?”

“Yeah,” Mimicking Keith, he dropped the crumpled up paper from his hands and took the tray from the table. With a few steps, he dumped the contents into the trash and stacked the large plastic object on the top before returning to Keith.

“I could’ve done that.” Keith pointed out, though his voice lacked any sort of annoyance about the action.

James shrugged. “It really isn’t a big deal.” Slipping his phone out of pocket, he unlocked it, and flicked his eyes up back at Keith, “By the way, how much do I owe you? I’ll send it to you.”

“Nothing.” Keith replied.

“Keith, you don’t have to pay. It’s fine.”

“Well, you didn’t have to take our garbage out for me. But you did.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest. “So, here we are.”

James gave him a playful roll of his eyes before swiping one of the helmets from the bench. “You’re really this pressed, huh?”

“Did you expect anything less?” Keith answered with a half-shrug. Turning, he retrieved the remaining helmet and tucked it under his arm, “Or is that not something you like about me, Griffin?”

With a lighthearted, barely-there shove, he turned away from Keith and towards the large, glass double doors. Pushing them open, James stepped to the side, holding onto the handle of one and leaving the space in-between for Keith’s exit.

Keith shot him a look. “Oh my God, really?”

A shit-eating grin took over James’s lips. “Oh. How did you put it? You didn’t have to pay. So, here we are.”

“Guess I’m not letting you chip in for gas money then.” Keith retaliated without any malice as he passed through the door and into the outside world.

James padded after him. “Not if you can’t stop me from sneaking you the money.”

Keith let out a snort as he slid his helmet over his head. “What am I? A stripper?”

Placing his pointer finger and thumb onto his chin, James dropped his other hand to his hip. “I don’t know Keith, you’ve got the good looks.”

He dropped his hand away from his face, processing the words that just managed to fall out of his mouth without a second thought.

Did he really just say that? Did he really just vocalize something like that so casually? Where had it come from? It wasn’t like he was constantly thinking about Keith’s looks or body right? No. Maybe the way Keith’s skinny jeans hugged his thighs and ass was eye drawing and his muscles haunted his walking thoughts but that wasn’t about Keith’s looks, right?

No. Couldn’t be. It wasn’t like he actually was truly into guys. He could think about Keith and want to be around him platonically. It was fine. How was it any different from stupid locker room talk between his teammates back in the day? They all joked around about stupid shit and about…

About girls. Only girls.

No. They’d jokingly hyped each other up with words like that before. It wasn’t like he was naming specific qualities of Keith’s. Just commenting that Keith was objectively attractive. He had a functioning pair of eyes. Of course he’d notice.

Right?

James let out a breath. Of course. That was it. He just noticed Keith’s attractiveness  _ objectively _ . It wasn’t like he wanted to get with Keith. Keith had to know that too.

Slipping his helmet over his head, James mounted the motorcycle after Keith. Securing his arms around Keith’s waist, he fought the recurrent bubbling urge to lean in close and rest his head lazily on the other boy’s shoulder.

“If you say so.” Keith said with a laugh to his voice, “Just don’t let me catch you slipping dollar bills down my pants.”

“Then you shouldn’t have paid for my burger.” James reminded.

Keith inserted the key and turned it, waiting for the engine to start up before saying, “God, you’re impossible.”

“I try my best.” James managed to get out before the sounds of the road and bike drowned out the rest of the world, thrusting them into their own private bubble away from the stressors constantly plaguing them.

Keith’s words played back in James’s mind as his hands locked in front of his waist and the world zipped past them. No one would ever agree with him that Keith was worth being around, huh? Even when Keith was willing to sneak him out and spend the night together just because James’s parents were having a spat?

He’d just have to show Keith his worth then.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was always something about Keith that made him more willing to break the rules, to enter into things he normally wouldn't, to always say yes. So, why did the reason why feel so obvious yet so hard to decipher? 
> 
> Or maybe he did know, and just kept finding more and more excuses each time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Back again to drop another chapter and run. I'm so happy there are still people who love James and Keith as much as I do <3
> 
> There's some thoughts including a little internalized homophobia in the chapter so just a heads up.

James’s thumbs tapped repeatedly on the glass of his phone screen as he typed out a string of words. Raising it further over his head, he read the words once more before hitting send and dropping the device onto his chest. With one final movement, he turned his head back to the side towards the movie Ryan had so graciously picked for them.

There was always something so calming about these nights, the ones where James and his friends got to have a quiet evening of nothing but snacks, video games, and movies. The kind of night where, for once, he was able to kick the guilt of not constantly studying for a few hours and able to bask in the aura of being a teenager.

The kind of night that made him feel like his life was normal for a bit.

His phone buzzed again, only getting seconds to lay low before he snatched it back into his hands and ran his eyes over the message.

**Keith (7:34):** Alright nerd, you call me when you’ve finally won 2048, and we’ll talk.

James thumbs tapped away on his screen, entering and deleting possible responses. There was something wrong, something lacking about each one, as if nothing would strike the chord he intended. Though, figuring out what exactly that chord was was an entirely different battle.

**Keith (7:36):** Actually..

**Keith (7:36):** I’m not drinking tonight. Do you want me to help sneak you out?

**Keith (7:37):** After your thing with your friends obv

He typed a quick response into the digital keyboard as an invisible force tugged at his lips.

“You’re going to get in trouble.” Ina’s words cut through his bubble, popping him back into the world around him.

Furrowing his brows, he lowered the device and glanced up at the blue eyes above him. He tilted his head back slightly to get a better look at his friend from her lap. “What?”

“You have that look.” Ina replied matter-of-factly.

Ryan turned his head towards James, removing his hand from its casual resting spot on James’s calf and resting his arm atop the back of the couch. “He does.”

James plopped the device down onto his chest. “What look?”

Was he really that obvious? Were his parents able to tell every time he decided to break one of their rules? Were they keeping count just to hold it against him later when they needed it most?

“You bite your lip for a second while looking away.” Nadia tilted her head back from her spot, hoarding the supply of blankets in front of the couch. “And yeah, you did it. Though...” She turned around and rested her crossed forearms on the cushions beside her. “I think I see another look there.”

James quirked an eyebrow at her as he shifted and removed himself from Ina and Ryan’s laps. Sitting up, he flipped his phone around in his hands, as if he was preparing to be exposed.

Why? These were his friends. The ones he’s leant on through everything, the ones who never once tattled or ratted him out to his parents. Why was he so afraid of what Nadia was about to say?

Besides, so much of their banter in the past was harmless teasing. Right now shouldn’t be any different.

“So, what’s her name, James?” Nadia flashed him a cheeky smile. “Who are you about to disobey your parents for?”

James choked on his own spit, staring vacantly for a second before forming words to defend himself, “No one. No one. I’m not talking to anyone like that.”

“Well you sure are talking to  _ someone _ right now.” Ryan added with a pointed look at James’s phone.

Jame subconsciously clutched his phone, pressing it against his chest. “It’s just Keith.”

“Keith is someone.” Ina countered.

“Yeah, but, but not like that, okay?” James shook one of his palms out in denial. He needed a straight face, he needed a way to hide it all, he needed a way to be convincing. He had no room to fuck up, no room to joke.

He swallowed the thoughts back down. It wasn’t as if he actually had anything to hide, right? There was nothing between him and Keith. It was just his residual anxiety. The same type that came up the moment his parents threw any baseless accusation at him.

James let a mental breath go through his system. There was no danger here. His friends weren’t genuinely attempting to incriminate him. It was teasing. Harmless teasing.

Ryan gave him a knowing look. “Are you sure it’s ‘just’ Keith.”

“Yes, it’s just Keith.” James shot him a glare. “Why are all of you so obsessed with the fact I’m friends with Keith now?”

Nadia shoved James’s thigh playfully. “We’re not. We just like messing with you.”

“You can always just invite him next time we hang out.” Ina moved one of the throw pillows onto her now empty lap. “It’s not like any of us don’t like him.”

“Yeah, if you’re really that close with him now, he’s always welcome.” Nadia turned back towards the television, leaning her body between James’s parted shins. “He just has to contribute to the snack pile. Rules are rules.”

“Are, are you sure?” James bit his bottom lip after the words left him. His fingers ran over the edges of his phone as he waited for a response.

“Sure. Why not? As long as he’s not breaking any laws.” Nadia shrugged before lifting her arms and resting them atop James’s thighs. “But, if you’re hanging out with him, Mr. Stick-Up-My-Butt, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I do not have a stick up my ass!” James shot Nadia a glare she couldn’t see.

“Your parents aren’t even home tonight, and you  _ still _ want to listen to your curfew. I think that qualifies as a stick in your butt behavior.” Nadia countered.

“Leave him alone.” Ina interjected, “It’s not his fault his parents are so strict.”

Ryan kept his gaze on James. “I still want to know who he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to for.” 

“Yeah James,” Nadia wiggled her eyebrows as she tilted her head back, “what are you about to do?”

“I,” James drew out the word, tapping his index finger against the back of his phone case, “might have let Keith convince me to sneak out.”

“Aww they grow up so fast.” Nadia teased.

James gave her head a playful push, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Ryan shrugged, “It kind of is. A few months ago, you would’ve always listened to your parents. Now, you’re letting the number one kid your parents hate convince you to run around town after curfew.”

“I have to agree it’s a bit amusing to see you jumping on Keith’s motorcycle.” Ina added, dragging one foot onto the corner of the couch cushion.

“Oddly, you don’t look out of place on it though.” Nadia commented.

“It’s true.” Ryan swiped the remote from the side table. With a few button presses, they rewound the movie back to its original time before the conversation commenced, “Well, make sure to text us about your adventure.”

Nadia nudged James’s thigh with her arm, lacing her final words with a joking tone, “And invite us next time.”

The sound of the television echoed throughout the room, effectively silencing the conversation and drawing the attention of the room towards it. With a lazy plop, James fell back onto his friends’ laps, forcing Ina’s leg down as he turned his gaze back towards the large bright screen, attention only torn by the buzzing phone on his chest and fuzzy build up in his chest after each message.

And maybe the popcorn Nadia threw at him complaining about the noise from the vibration.

* * *

**Keith (10:24):** Are we still meeting up?

**James (10:24):** Yeah, I’m on my way home. I’ll text you.

James dropped the phone into his lap, running his index finger over the edges as the scenery in the windows passed by. The catchy beat of the radio attempted to sway him from the thoughts pooling in his mind, to get him to abandon them and think about the fun night in progress. Though, even Nadia’s carefree humming and the fresh memories of popcorn throwing wasn’t enough to rival the intensity of the brewing anxiety in his chest.

In retrospect, it was hard to lose himself in much of anything these days.

The backlight of his phone triggered alongside his most recent notification. Upon reading Keith’s acknowledgement of his last message he turned it over towards his thighs.

A frown etched itself onto his face. Was he really making the right decisions? At what point was he no longer being a teenager begging for some freedom? Was he causing his parents unnecessary problems? Was he obvious in everything he did wrong?

Was that why he couldn’t get his dad to ever praise him? Was it that he knew everything he’d ever knowingly done wrong and none of his accomplishments were ever enough to make up for it? Was he the real stressor on his parents?

“You okay?” Nadia’s voice cut through the thoughts threatening to consume the last of his positive mood.

“I-“ James flicked his eyes over towards Nadia for a brief moment, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay. I might not be headed for valedictorian, and you might be able to fool your parents, but I can tell when my friend is lying through his teeth.” Nadia replied.

Was he really that bad of a liar too?

“It’s no big deal.” James finally said.

Nadia let out a sigh, hands turning the steering wheel along with the curve of the road, “James, I’m serious. I know I give you shit all the time, but I care about you. And if you’re not doing okay, I want to know.” She paused before adding, “Even if it’s just something with your parents.”

James leaned his elbow on the ledge next to the door handle. “What answer are you looking for?”

“The truth.” Nadia said immediately, “I’m not Ina. I don’t need some weird in depth, technical answer about your feelings and where they’re coming from. Just if you’re doing okay lately, because you’ve seemed off.”

James opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. What was he supposed to say? That he was having thoughts about his sexuality pop up every other night? That his parents were fighting? That he was still up every night having panic attacks about the workload on his plate and the ever growing expectations from his parents?

That he sometimes felt like he was one stone’s throw away from giving up on ever pleasing anyone else in general?

He finally settled on, “Nothing big. Just anxiety. It’ll be better once we have our next break.”

It wasn’t like it was a full lie. It technically  _ was _ all anxiety related.

Nadia frowned. “Is it because I’ve been teasing you about Keith?”

James’s eyes widened on his own accord as the words passed into his ears. Clamping his mouth shut with all the responses threatening to incriminate him, he shook his head.

“You know James...” Nadia started, “We tease you a lot, but it’s okay if you’re gay or whatever.” When James failed to give her a response, she continued, “I mean, if a guy makes you happy, he makes you happy, ya know?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Did he wait too long? Was his hesitation incriminating? Did he have to deny it right off the bat to be taken for his word? Were all his friends onto him? Did they know his internal monologue each and every time he wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist to ride around the town?

What was he going on about? It wasn’t like he was actually gay. No. He’d gone through it multiple times in his head. It didn’t make sense. Yeah, being around Keith brought him a fuzzy sense of happiness that was hard to replicate, but it didn’t mean he had a crush.

Right?

James dug his teeth into his bottom lip harshly. Why couldn’t these thoughts be easy? Maybe his friends had these moments, too. The ones where they thought about their orientation, but in the end, it would be for nothing.

They had to...

“James?” Nadia’s words derailed his train of thought, “Are you still there?”

He ran his fingers through his bangs and shook his head. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m not gay. Just... are you sure you guys are really okay with me being friends with Keith? You’re all bringing it up all the time.”

Nadia shrugged, removing her hand from the steering wheel as she did so. “I mean, if you like spending time with him, I don’t really get to decide that.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, if you like being pals with Keith, you should be pals with Keith, but it just wasn’t something I ever thought I’d live to see.” She tied off the last of her sentence with a small laugh.

James rapped his knuckles unconsciously against the door handle. “I don’t know... something about him just feels different.” He paused, contemplating his next words. Were they safe to say? Would they send his whole hill of coverups for his true emotions tumbling down with no stop in sight? Did it really matter? Maybe a few small seeds about his doubt to one of his closest friends was a good thing. If she noticed, they could talk, and he would be able to trick his brain into thinking he finally let it out to someone. Besides, he was probably just running himself in useless circles with his anxiety and it was really going to turn out to be nothing in the end. Opening his mouth once more, he continued, “I love you, Ina, and Ryan. But, there’s something different about hanging out with Keith. I don’t know what it is. It’s not  _ better _ but just different.”

“Again, I  _ would _ say it sounds like you like him. But you don’t like guys so,” Nadia dragged out the last word, “I don’t know. Just chill with him. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”

James let out a small laugh through his nose. “If only my parents agreed.”

Nadia waved her hand. “Screw them.” Slowly rolling to a stop next to the curb, she put the car in park. “You’ll get into Rice.”

He pressed his thumb into the release and let the seatbelt retract. Grabbing his bag from the car floor he pulled the handle and stepped out. With a quick turn, James threw Nadia a wave, “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.” Flashing him a smile, she added on, “I’m serious though. If you need me, text me.”

He nodded. “I will. Safe drive.”

“Wear a helmet.” Nadia threw up a peace sign briefly. Shifting the car into drive, a cheeky smile took over her face, “And make sure Keith wear’s one too.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, James let a matching smile make a home on his face, “I will.” With a small push, he watched the car door close and Nadia eventually pull away, wheels grinding against the road and competing with the sounds of the night that surrounded him. Stepping across his yard, he let his friend’s previous words fully enter his brain and settle there. He reached into his pocket, pressing the keys into the door locks and entering the house. Gnawing at his bottom lip, he dropped his bag by the couch in the next room and flopped onto it. Was Nadia serious? Was he really doing that bad of a job at concealing the continuous thoughts circulating his head?

Was the world really onto him?

Yeah, he wanted to be closer with Keith, and somehow, no matter how much time James spent with him, the desire was never quelled, but it wasn’t enough to stand up and proclaim he was actually into guys the whole time. In fact, it was a quality of a good friendship. The two of them were just an odd match. Rebel without a cause and teacher’s pet. It wasn’t his fault if people got the wrong idea, especially those close to him. And, with everyone else’s biases about Keith and his sexuality, it wasn’t unexpected that people assumed the only way Keith would have friends is if they were also gay. Keith even predicted it.

His mind drifted to the lingering memories of the night where he did. How Keith and his relationship changed, how they went from buckets of assumptions about each other to peacefully sitting in a clearing together. There was something about the feeling that settled into his bones when Keith pointed up at the sky above them that refused to leave him. The glittering in the sky and calm conversation that flowed between them was something so natural it could’ve come out of a tv show. Perfectly matched and oddly fitting for the path they had just trekked together.

If only James had dared to reach over to Keith’s hand and thread their fingers together. If only Keith had reached over, hands gently cupping James’s face as he leant in for an innocent press of their lips. If only they two of them had been able to find it in themselves to find comfort in each other’s physical touch, cuddling under the astonishing view that shown above them.

James pulled the lever to the track his train of thought occupied, tearing away and desperately thrusting it in another direction. What was he thinking? Keith had never done any of that with him, nor did he seem too inclined to either. Yeah, they were friends, but even a stronger level of friendship didn’t warrant those types of thoughts. Him and Ina were friends since they were in diapers, but it wasn’t as if he was coming up with ways to fight his brain every night to convince him to stop thinking otherwise. The boundaries of their friendship were clear as day, no blurriness in sight or feelings.

Why did Keith’s presence constantly shake his resolve like that? Sending him into frenzies of thought revolving around his pointless urges. It wasn’t as if they did anything particularly different together, yet here James was, running himself in circles and constantly brushing off the doubts that settled into his mind. James was most certainly no stranger to friends, or even making new ones. But none of them left him with a stupid smile on his face and a pool of butterflies in his stomach that refused to leave, not in the way Keith did. He’d been excited to get to know others, to be invited out, but the difference was there.

Maybe there was truly a difference. Maybe it wasn’t in his head and a product of his anxiety. Maybe his friends were right with their lighthearted teasing. Would it even be okay? Would his friends actually still be there if it was true? Would his life change if he dared to speak the words? Would his parents still give him the speckles of love he was shown?

His stomach dropped, a familiar anxiety-induced ache settling in the pits of it. His parents. There wasn’t room for this. Not in their plan for him. Not with his dad worried about impressions from others in town and his mother desperately putting little pieces back in place and hoping no one realized. Not when James was frantically gluing them all, hoping they stuck and no one would notice the ones he lost along the way.

He didn’t like Keith. He wasn’t allowed to. Not now. It was just a larger than usual interest. Nothing to worry about. He liked girls, even if no one had his eye right now. All he had to do was stop worrying about it. The less he worried, the harder it was for his brain to believe his faux concerns. It had happened before. Tricking himself into things with never ending thoughts. It was happening here.

It had to be.

The phone on his chest buzzed. Holding it with two fingers at the top, he tilted it up and watched Keith’s name pop onto the screen.

Shit. He was supposed to text him.

Quickly tapping out a message, James sent it over.

**James (10:40):** Yeah, we’re still good. I made it home safe.

**Keith (10:40):** Good to hear

**Keith (10:40):** I’ll leave soon

Fuck. They were supposed to go out. An unsettling bout of nausea smacked him at the thought. There was too much involved. Too many logistics, too many preparations to assure his parents nor the neighbors found any trail of his sneak out. Too much energy needed to present himself in a specific way to the outside world.

James could trust Keith though, right? The boy hadn’t spilled any of his internal woes or secrets so far.

He pressed his teeth into his bottom lip as he tapped out a response.

**James (10:42):** Actually... could we stay in tonight?

**Keith (10:43):** As in??

**James (10:43):** My house?

**James (10:44):** Sorry I’m not feeling great. But I still want to see you

**Keith (10:44):** Do you need anything from the store? I’ll get you medicine.

**James (10:44):** No. Not kind of sick. Thanks though.

**Keith (10:45):** :(

**Keith (10:45):** Anxiety?

**James (10:45):** Unfortunately

**Keith (10:46):** I’m heading out. Hang in there.

**James (10:46):** Thanks

James dropped the phone back onto his chest, letting the screen face down and the stillness of the room overcome his senses. No one was home. No one would be home for a while either. It was just him and the four walls surrounding him.

Just him and his thoughts.

He shook it all away. He’d only make it worse by focusing on it. Reaching to his side, he unzipped the bag that sat next to him on the floor. Grabbing a textbook from it, he lugged the heavy collection of pages onto his stomach and settled next for retrieving his planner. With a few quick flips, he noted the assigned pages for the weekend and opened the book accordingly. If he was going to do anything, he might as well get caught up on the work he failed to get ahead on.

A loud knock echoed across the ground floor of the house.

Had it been that long already?

He slid off the couch, leaving the textbook open face down on the cushions. With a few quick steps, he made his way over to the back door and peeked through the window. Once the familiar head of black hair came into view, he undid the locks and pulled the door towards him.

“Hey,” Keith greeted. Stepping inside, he handed James a crinkled, white paper bag and a disposable soda cup. “I got you something.”

A small smile took over James’s lips. “You didn’t have to.”

“Good. ‘Cause I wanted to.” Keith said, stepping past him.

Pushing the door closed behind Keith, James placed the bag onto the kitchen counter. “I’m starting to think you just like spending money.”

“Well, you weren’t feeling well.” Keith stripped himself of the black hoodie he was previously adorning and folded it up before placing it on the counter. “Thought it might help. Cheer you up a bit.”

An involuntary heat crept up onto James’s cheeks, and he prayed Keith couldn’t see it. Taking a seat at the island counter, he dared to reply, “You’re sweet.”

Keith dragged a seat from beside James and to the other side of the island. Sliding into the seat, he hummed in response.

James took a sip from the soda cup. “Did you get here safe?”

Keith nodded. “My helmet’s on my bike. Promise.”

“Good.” James began to open up the paper bag. “I enjoy you being alive.”

“You’re one of five, but I’ll take it.” Keith placed his elbow onto the counter and leaned his cheek against his hand. “What about you? Feeling alright?”

James let out a sigh. Pausing his actions, he took a moment before answering, contemplating his next words. Eventually, he opened his mouth, “I’m alive. Not dying. Nauseous with a stomach ache though.”

“A start.” Keith’s free hand made it atop the table. He rubbed his thumb over the edge of it absentmindedly. “Do you need to talk?”

James opened his mouth, then closed it. Was it worth it? Would it really be safe to rely his current worries over to Keith? Yeah, Keith was gay. He might understand. But, did it really mean that Keith wasn’t able to spill the beans as soon as it was in his benefit? Or did it really mean that Keith would keep his mouth shut as soon as James asked? That Keith would attempt to forget as soon as James asserted his heterosexuality?

No. The risk wasn’t worth it. James could handle it on his own.

He shrugged. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. Stressed.”

Keith scrunched his lips together towards the palm his cheek rested on. Something akin to disbelief flashed in his eyes, only leaving when concern replaced it. Finally, he said, “You’re like Shiro.” When James furrowed his brows at him, he clarified, “He’s the same way. You both brush off your problems and then get surprised when you have extra anxiety.”

“Says the one who bottles up his problems and expresses it by skipping classes and rebelling.”

“Yeah, but people  _ care _ what you do.” Keith pointed out.

James rolled his eyes. “A little too much if you ask me.”

“Never said otherwise.” Keith lowered his forearms to the counter, crossing the casually. “Can I help you relax at all?”

It was almost funny in an odd way, ironic, as if Keith hadn’t been the pleasant catalyst for his unwanted scenario in the first place. Though, none of it meant he was in any sort of mind to want Keith gone, nor did it mean he was ready to confront it. The limbo of his thoughts seemed almost reflected in the dynamic before him.

James shook his head. “I appreciate the food though.”

“I’m glad.” Keith drummed his fingertips against the counter as the crinkling of the bag attempted to keep the lack of words between them feeling natural. When it failed, Keith added, “So, how long are your parents gone for? Figured they don’t want to come home and see me sitting in their kitchen.”

“They’ll be home around two.” James slid a french fry out of the packaging. “So we have time.”

Keith leaned his head towards his shoulder. “Is there anything you wanted to do?”

“I don’t know. We could just watch a movie or something. I have to bake something for my mom’s church fundraiser on Sunday, but you don’t have to help with that.”

“I don’t mind.” Keith assured, “I cook all my meals, it’s not that different.”

“I never really pictured you as the cooking type.” James commented. Though, in retrospect, it did make some sense. From everything he managed to pick up on with Keith and his secretive words about his life, the other boy was very independent and self-sufficient.

Keith shrugged. “With my aunt and uncle, I don’t really have a choice. It’s a cold day in hell if they’re spending any time on me.”

“For all the complaining your aunt does, I’d think she’d at least pretend to care.” James replied before popping another fry into his mouth.

“At least I’m not out here trying to keep up appearances. She made this monster. Now, she has to live with it.” Keith stood up, “Where’s the baking stuff?”

James pointed his index finger at one of the cabinets as he chewed. Once he swallowed, he said, “That cabinet.”

Keith bent over, swinging the cabinet door open, and rummaged noisily through the different cooking and baking equipment. Retrieving a cookie sheet and cake tin, he placed them on the stovetop and stood up. “Any idea what you wanted to make?”

James tore his eyes away from the incriminating area they found themselves fixated to. He shook his head. “No. I just knew I had to do it. Probably best if I do it now, though. If they catch me doing it at night, they’ll start yelling.”

“Hold up.” Keith turned around, one palm exposed as the other leaned on the edge of the stove. “You’re telling me that they expect you to be an honor student, get into Rice, help with your dad’s campaign bs, help with your mom’s church stuff, actually go to said church every week, and they get pissy if you’re up late?”

“Welcome to my life.” James said with a roll of his eyes.

Keith shook his head and blew air through his lips. “How have you not snapped already, Griffin?”

“I have to live with the consequences of losing their little privileges they give me.”

“No wonder your parents hate me. I’m the kid you could’ve been.” Keith crossed his arms over his chest light-heartedly. “Makes me proud of you for sneaking out with me.”

“I don’t know what it is about you.” James confessed, “I can’t say no.”

“I’ll make sure to call you for my future bail money then.” Keith let out a laugh alongside his words.

Another fuzziness traveled through James’s system. Something about Keith’s laugh always had him. Hearing the same boy who had once refused to give him the time of day joking and laughing with him just had no comparison. Especially when said laugh was so memorable.

He almost felt privileged to experience it. As if it was a guarded thing for only a few in Keith’s life to hear.

“I’m going to go broke.” James joked back. He ate another fry before adding, “By the way, the flour and everything is in the cabinet above the sink.”

“Want to just make something simple? Like cookies or a cake? Or does your mom have to impress her church friends?” Keith asked, tacking on the subtle jab seamlessly.

James tapped his index finger against the countertop three times before replying, “Cake maybe? We could decorate it?”

“Fine by me.” Keith opened up the cabinet, pulling out a bag of flour, baking soda, and an unopened bag of sugar.

“Oh, we have sugar in the jar over to the left.” James pointed out. Finishing the last fry, he crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the garbage can. Sliding onto his feet, he took a few steps toward Keith. With an easy motion, he wrapped his fingers around the object in question and brought it to the collection of items Keith rounded up.

Keith turned towards him. “Can I go in the fridge?”

“Go for it.”

Taking a few steps across the kitchen, Keith opened the fridge door. Light illuminated the room and Keith’s face as he dug around for the last of the necessary items. Turning his head over his shoulder to look at James, he asked, “Does your mom have anything particular she wants in her cakes?”

James shrugged. “No clue. She usually makes them, but she was busy this week, so my dad insisted that I should pull my weight.”

Keith rolled his eyes before turning back to the fridge. “What’s his issue?”

James crossed his arms, leaning against the counter as he waited for Keith to finish. “Wish I could tell you. He’s always been like this towards me.”

“I’ll give him a blunt.” Keith snarked, “Might chill him out.”

James let out a laugh. “I’d like to see the day. I know he’d flip out if he ever caught me with that shit.”

“New goal. I’m getting you high one day.” Keith stepped away and placed the few items on one of the countertops, extra light leaving behind him.

“Good luck.” James gave Keith a gentle, playful shove.

“The good boy act is cute and all, but I’ve already gotten you to sneak out, so.” Keith walked over to the sink, quickly washing his hands before returning to the collected items.

James handed him a mixing bowl. “You’re just lucky I like you.”

“Uh huh. Sure Griffin, sure.” Keith replied, smile stuck on his face. Cracking open an egg, he let the contents drop into the bowl, repeating the actions a few times.

James rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. He grabbed the flour and a measuring cup, reaching it in and sliding the appropriate amount over towards Keith. “You should take me inviting you over while my parents are gone as enough of a declaration of friendship to you. It’s a privilege. I don’t do this for just anyone.”

“Well, I’m not a personal delivery boy for anyone else, so we’re even.” Keith replied as he dumped the flour into the bowl.

“Really?” James turned his head towards Keith. A softer tone with a hint of seriousness entered his voice, “Why me then?”

Keith froze for a moment, then shrugged. Matching James’s tone, he answered, “I don’t know. I just like making you happy, I guess.” After a few seconds, he added, “You’re never really happy.”

James stilled, hands against the counter. Heart taking the liberty to speed up as he processed the first words, then sinking slightly at the follow up. With a soft voice, he finally said, “Do I really come off like that?

After a few moments, Keith kept his eyes to the counter as he spoke, “Yeah… kinda.”

“Oh…”

“Look, I didn’t mean it in a bad way just… I don’t know…” Keith’s hands remained still, “I guess I just thought of you as having some perfect white picket fence life before I got to know you. And now, I know you just act a lot.” He paused, then continued, “I think, even if your parents weren’t so weird, you’d still want to hide it.”

“No, no… it’s just, Nadia was saying the same thing earlier. I didn’t think it was that bad…” James let out a sigh. “I guess it is what it is. Two more years.”

“Are you sure college will make you feel better?” Keith asked. A sincerity coated his voice.

James refocused on measuring out the sugar. “I mean, I’ll be out of here, right?”

“Yeah, but you’ll still be doing the exact thing you’re doing here.” Keith pointed out, “You’ll be out of this town, but you’ll be going to the college your parents picked, doing the things they pressure you into, and playing their stupid little game still.”

James’s eyes fell to the open jar in front of him. Keith’s comments weren’t out of place. In fact, they were fairly insightful. It wasn’t as if James was choosing this path for himself in the end. No. It was just him still playing into his parents’ will for a picture perfect family, for all the pieces of the puzzle to fit together exactly as they planned. There would be little changed. It was the same college they were pressuring him into, they would call him frequently to assure he was listening to their wishes for his social and academic life, they would put their noses into the grades he got, anything they wanted he would still do. He knew himself that much.

At least he could use it to get away from the fighting. Maybe.

James ran his teeth over his bottom lip, standing in the silence before finally saying, “I’ll get away from their fighting.”

“Fair enough.” Keith replied with a shrug. Taking the sugar from James, he dumped it into the bowl.

James unwrapped the butter and placed it in a small bowl. Sticking it into the microwave, he set the timer and watched it rotate in the device. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What are you planning on doing?” James clarified, “You always said you weren’t a college guy. So what are you planning on?”

Keith shrugged. Retrieving the butter, he dumped it into the bowl. “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure my aunt and uncle want me gone when I’m eighteen, but the situation with my mom and pops is complicated, so I just don’t think about it.”

“No plans? You don’t look forward to anything to get you through it right now?”

Keith shook his head. “I just take it one day at a time. With everything going on with my parents and aunt and uncle, I really can’t predict much anyway, so it’s not worth it.”

James reached up into one of the cabinets and passed the vanilla extract to Keith. “So, um, what exactly is going on with your parents and everything anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Keith blew air through his lips and tied up the action with a sigh. “God, where do I even start? Long story short, both my parents work a lot and have to bounce around, so they felt it was best I live with my aunt and uncle so I have a ‘stable’ environment.” He added air quotes near the end of his sentence.

“Do they know what’s going on here?” James asked, handing Keith a measuring cup of milk.

“I try not to make waves. It’s easier on all of us.” Keith dumped the milk into the bowl. “I don’t want to stress them out either. I know they’re trying to do their best.”

“Well, I don’t know if being known as a discipline case by the teachers is exactly the best way to avoid making waves.” James joked. There was something about asking Keith to reveal such personal information that clawed at his insides, as if he threw blame at himself for lowering the mood. Even if Keith was never required to answer, James steered it this way in the end.

A small smile crept up on Keith’s lips. “Can’t say it is, can I?”

James passed him a measured out tablespoon of baking powder. “No. But I think that’s what makes you Keith.”

“Glad I’m unique enough to remember then.”

“Need anything else?” James asked. With a few steps, he peeked over Keith’s shoulder. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke filled his nose at the proximity.

He wanted to wrap his arms around the other boy.

James blinked a few times, banishing the impulse from his mind. No. He couldn’t do that. There were boundaries. He needed to follow them.

Keith shook his head, unbothered, as if James’s sudden accidental invasion into his personal space did nothing to phase him. “Actually, wait.” He paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing before shooting up, “Salt!”

Taking a few steps towards the cabinet, James retrieved the shaker and handed it to Keith. “Anything else?”

“Do you have a mixer?” Keith asked, turning his head towards James from his focus on the bowl.

“Yeah,” Bending down, he opened up another cabinet. Taking out an electric mixer, he placed it onto the counter, “right here.”

“Thanks.” He lent out his hand for James to take. Once the two connected, he pulled the other boy up.

“I should be thanking you. I don’t think anyone has ever come over to help me get my shit done for my parents.” James reached over, plugging the device into the wall and removing the plastic covering. Sliding the metal whisks into place, he handed the item over to Keith.

“Well, now you do.” Keith carefully hooked his thumb into the small ring to the side of the bowl, bracing it on his hand as he switched the mixer on. With a cute amount of precision he slowly lowered it into the contents.

An array of baking components shot out of the bowl, making a work of art of Keith’s face.

Promptly shutting off the mixer, he placed it onto the counter and silently stared at the bowl.

Stifling a laugh, James reached over and wet a paper towel under the faucet. Handing it to Keith, he tried and failed to remove the smile from his lips.

God, Keith was cute.

“You good there?” James asked.

Taking the wet paper towel, Keith wiped his face down. “Peachy.”

“Cheer up.” James placed a few fingers over his mouth, “I think it’s a good look.”

Keith sent him a glare, though it lacked any malice or upset. Moments later, it was replaced with a mischievous smirk, and he lunged over with the soiled paper towel. Rubbing a streak on James’s cheek he said, “Good. ‘Cause now we match.”

James’s laugh filled the room, mixing with Keith’s own as he reached for the other boy’s wrist. Grabbing it, he pushed it away, only to be met with Keith trying harder to accomplish his goal and his lower back against the counter. “Oh my God, get away from me.”

“Too late.” Keith swiftly grabbed the paper towel out of his other hand and swiped it across James’s nose and lips.

“You’re so gross, stop.” James tilted his head away from Keith’s attacks, bracing himself against the counter with one hand and desperately attempting to steal the used paper towel out of Keith’s grasp. With one successful move, he snatched the object, closing his fist around it and covering his palm in the raw cake batter. “Good luck now.”

Bending his knees, Keith made a tiny jump towards James’s raised hand, his swipe just missing the hand protecting the prized object. With another jump, Keith’s body collided with James’s, chests only separated by two thin layers of fabric and knees bumping together. Each and every laugh entered the air, mingling their breaths as Keith’s sudden fall into him was only steadied by a hand against the counter to each side of James. Purple eyes flicked towards James, widening at the sudden realization of their proximity.

“I…” Keith’s voice trailed off before he closed his mouth, then opened it and instead replied, “Maybe I went too crazy there.”

James’s eyes held Keith’s gaze, raised arm slowly lowering as his other hand held the counter in a white-knuckle grip. With a casual threat, his heart battered itself against his ribcage as Keith’s breath cascaded across his face, lips only inches from James’s own. A million thoughts shot through his brain, from fighting physical urges to the unwieldy feelings daring to peak out as his mind insisted on memorizing the face in front of him. The relaxed smile, the gorgeous eyes, the messed hair with flecks of batter still decorating some strands, each and every small feature was burning into his memory, goaling to recall it any time he shut his eyes.

Running his tongue over his lips, he blinked a few times silently. There was something about having Keith here, so close, physically and mentally that sent a new wave of butterflies into his stomach, new burst of fuzziness in his veins, and thrust his heart rate to the sky. Something that couldn’t do anything but force him to smile back at the boy in front of him.

A part of him wanted to reach out, hand cupping Keith’s cheek and solidifying the moment as something memorable. Something that neither of them could ever ignore again.

He swallowed, the curl of his lips only spreading wider and heart rate matching the increase.

Keith’s smile morphed into something calmer, something warmer, eyes softening as his muscles relaxed their grip on the countertop. A few teeth poked through as a barely audible laugh passed through him, breaking the silence threatening to crack the moment between them.

Releasing his free hand from the counter, James reached up towards Keith’s face. His fingers missed the skin of his cheek by an inch as they moved up towards the scattered bangs around Keith’s eyes. Making contact with a few strands of Keith’s hair, he pinched his index finger and thumb together and slid a splash of batter out of it. “Missed a spot.” James finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

Lowering his head, Keith made contact with James’s shoulder, forehead settling against it and another soft laugh emitted from him. “Guess I do need you to keep me out of some trouble.”

Involuntarily leaning the side of his face into Keith’s locks, he lazily inhaled the same familiar smell he had once loathed. Humming contently, he refused to budge. “Yeah, you do.”

The increase of the curl of Keith’s lips expressed itself through their touch of James’s shoulder.

There was so much more he wanted to do, the same thoughts from moments ago flying through his fried mind. To move his arms around Keith, to pull him close, to tilt up Keith’s chin and press their lips together, to snake his hands to Keith’s waist and slip his hands under the hem of the black shirt the other boy adorned, to—

No. He couldn’t, couldn’t…

He didn’t actually want to go that far, to do more than this, to finalize something else with this moment. It was normal to have a slip up like that, to think of a friend in that light, it was curiosity, it was healthy, it was—

Not what his old friends experienced. Not what the locker room talk was, not what the comments they made about people like Keith was. There was no reason for him to feel this, no reason for him to want to act on these urges so badly. No reason to get them at all.

Why was he like this? Why was he fighting his wants every time he got close to Keith? Why was the highlight of his day texting Keith and riding on the back of his motorcycle?

Why was his mind so fixated on Keith?

The random butterflies, the sweaty palms, the stupid inevitable smiles, they all had to mean something, had to clear it all up and explain it away. There had to be a reason, there had to be—Oh.

_ Oh. _

Oh no.

His heart dropped into the deepest pits of his stomach, nausea resurfacing and stomach ache roaring at full force.

He liked Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am actually a bit self conscious with how this chapter turned out but I hope you all like it anyway <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk Jaith to me on Twitter


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